


Wanted

by vienne_la_nuit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, At Times Historical/Political/Philosophical Themes, Canon Compliant till the End of the Battle, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Social Transition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:51:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 85,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienne_la_nuit/pseuds/vienne_la_nuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After defeating Voldemort the unpredictable happens and everyone's life turns upside down. Which results for a group of misfits to recognize and accept their dependence on each other, while a Europe-wide hunt after them unfolds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Familiar intruders

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, this story is canon up until the end of Battle of Hogwarts. Though there are two exceptions to the events, but I'm going to explain them when the time is right. From then on it's obviously going to be very au. I believe it is safe to state that some characters are going to be somewhat ooc. 
> 
> Again, please note this story has to be a bit political / philosophical at times, so I have the right set up for the upcoming happenings, and also so I can be faithful to my imagination and plans.
> 
> I did use thoughts of political theorists of the 20th century –good luck finding them!-, and historical experiences during repression –again, mostly 20th century inspired -, plus I reached back to popular culture references too, meaning the work of Orwell. If you are not familiar with him, I can only recommend reading anything by him.
> 
> To sum everything up, I can reassure you, this story is going to be very complex at some points, and not an easy light hearted piece of work, I aim to entertain but on an intellectual, challenging way too, so if this doesn't appeal you, please kindly look elsewhere for reading material.
> 
> Disclaimer: Anything that you recognise as a part of Rowling's Potterverse, is hers, I'm just burrowing some of her creations because I would like to contribute to the afterlife of her story. The rest is a result of my imagination, unless explicitly told so. This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this story.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

Hermione Granger lets out quite a loud moan.  If her mind wouldn’t be engulfed in a state of contented bliss, eyes closed, lips curved in a satisfied smile, she might have been embarrassed at just how loud she is.  But _boy_ was it long ago that she felt _this_ good!

 

Ever since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts three months ago, ever since she left the wizarding world behind, cutting all her ties (apart from keeping her wand), she is trying her hardest to heal, to re-learn and cherish small pleasures in life... which leads to her current situation: being pressed up against a random tree in a residential area of Oxford at night.  She shifts, continues to rub her back against that seriously handsome piece of tree, and moans again.

 

 _Ah! The beauty in life that only an old friendly and a very hard tree can offer to an itchy back on a too warm summer night._ At this thought she just has to let out a little chuckle.

 

Yes, she has come a long way since leaving the wizarding world behind.

  
She didn’t mean to abandon anybody, or cowardly pop out, escape, but she felt like she lost herself along the way of fighting throughout her teenage years, living in constant fear, people always depending on her and turning to her to solve their problems.  Not to mention her most recent experiences, putting together a puzzle left behind by a –let’s get real and admit it- manipulative old wizard, keeping her best friends alive, dealing with extreme arts of dark magic, being on the run for almost a year.          

  
She puffs her cheeks and leans back slowly against the tree, content to just enjoy the simplicity and feeling of security this situation can offer.  She opens her eyes, crosses her arms on her chest and looks up at the sky. 

  
Her mind drifts to her most haunting memories of the past year.  She was captured, left at the fancy and moods of a seriously demented woman, tortured by her.  She shudders at the images and sensations that suddenly overpower her, all of them are about _that_ night.  Those dark brown eyes, so... _empty_... void of everything, but some kind of crazed fever, _her_ eyes, they still send chills down on her spine...  After her and her friends fled that blasted manor, she was extremely grateful for being able to hold onto her sanity.  She somehow picked up the pieces of her shattered self, and forced herself to continue, to find the remaining horcruxes, so she could at least hold onto the hope of a vague future that would enable her to put herself back together.  She has never shown the boys just how damaged she was after Malfoy Manor.  And then the battle broke out...

  
All those lives, all those scattered bodies...memories, dreams, hopes slowly leaking away and the ground that hungrily drank up every drop of blood...

 

She has to stop this train of thought _now_.  Hermione shakes her head and inhales deeply.       

  
The night air is rich with warm summer scents, a disturbingly sweet flower nearby almost overpowers the comfortable humidity in the air.  But then she turns her head to the left, smells the tree’s naturally comforting scent, and that makes her smile a little.

 

But a sudden ‘pop’ causes her to hastily and silently duck behind a nearby car.    
_This sound definitely was of magical origin, some stranger kind of apparition maybe?  
_ She muses as she slowly pulls out her wand from her pocket and sneaks a peak.  Two figures are standing not more than 20 meters ahead, a bit to the right from her.  One of them is wearing a jumper, with the hood up, the other is slightly smaller, and appears to be more delicately built.    
_A woman perhaps._  
Hermione guesses before she hears them whispering:

 

“Are you certain?”  Asks the taller one with a deep, somehow familiar voice.        

  
“Yes!  She has to be here!”  Answers the woman, then they both seem to look up and down the street.

  
“I believe you.”  The hooded figure lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping just a bit, “but we have to move!  They can be here any minute now...”     

  
“No, she is here. We have to warn her at least!” The smaller one interrupts him, shaking her head vigorously.

 

Once again they both let their eyes roam the street.  Hermione has a nagging feeling that she has _met_ them before... but she can’t explain the origin of this feeling yet, besides the war taught her to be even more cautious than she naturally was. All her instincts are screaming to wait, so she grips her wand more tightly and readies her muscles in case she has to jump or run.         

  
The strange woman inhales deeply and mutters:  
“She is here, the rabbit said she was.”   
Just as Hermione hears the odd sentence, the woman turns and begins to walk straight at Hermione’s hiding place.  Hermione tenses then lets out a shaky breath. The minute the light of a street lamp falls on dirty blonde hair, she chuckles.

 

_Of course.  Who else would have been led by a rabbit?_

“Hello Hermione Granger. Did you find a Blibbering Humdinger under that car? That would be lovely, they are said to be very colourful and rather fond of yellow flowers.”

 

“Hello to you too, Luna Lovegood.” Hermione has to smile at the bubbly girl’s refreshing oddness. She is way past her issues about Luna’s invisible creature-garden, the experiences of recent years made her quite fond of the girl, her courage, her vast knowledge and her loyalty.  Hermione quickly steps up to her and pulls her into a tight hug.   
“I’ve missed you my friend.”          

  
“I’ve missed you too Hermione Granger. And the lack of nargles around you, you seem to have a calming effect even on them.”  Says Luna in her usual dreamy way.  Meanwhile Luna’s... companion... friend?  ...walks up to them as well.  Hermione flicks her gaze to the man, and sees light glinting under his hood.

 

_It’s him._

“Harry.”  She breaths out, then throws her arms around his neck.  She can’t even choke a word out, she just squeezes him more tightly.  Harry returns the hug just as fiercely, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide his tears.

 

“’Mione.”  He glides his hand over her cheeks, “we have to move to somewhere safe _without_ apparating.  We are going to tell you everything later, but please don’t ask anything now, just trust me, we have to go.”

 

Hermione looks in his eyes, the green is shockingly hollow and haunted, yet he tries to crack a smile for her sake. She immediately knows that something is very wrong.

 

Yet, a hurried “Follow me.” is the only thing she says, before she hurriedly walks down the street, her friends following her.   
Hermione turns twice to the left, crosses a street, turns to the right, climbs over a fence, follows a stream for several minutes, until she turns sharply to the left and walks through a hole on the fence.  It isn’t lost on her that during the whole walk both Harry and Luna are nervously looking around, holding their wands ready and not uttering a word.

 

_There must be a serious threat for them to act like this.  But what can that be?  Voldemort is gone for crying out loud.  What caused that look on Harry?  He wasn't this broken not even at the worst hour of our horcrux hunt.  And just where is bloody Ron?  Not that I would tolerate meeting him at this point, but still._

Hermione lengthens her strides in her worry. She senses that the more they walk the more fidgety her friends are getting.  She pushes a wide piece of wood out of their way to reveal a door that appears to open to some kind of yard.  She waits till Harry and Luna walk past her, then hides and closes the door again.  She turns, crosses the yard and walks up to a townhouse. She taps a code in a panel, and whispers something to a small monitor then the door opens.

 

Harry and Luna look at each other, surprise reflecting in their eyes.  They weren’t expecting Hermione to be, well to put it frankly, _this_ muggle.

 

She gestures for them to walk in, Harry looks around one last time, while Luna steps in the house.  After they are all inside Hermione re-activates the alarm.

 

“Han!  I’m home!”  She shouts.  Luna and Harry once again turn to look at her, curiosity and by now slight amusement clearly written on their faces.  She just rolls her eyes and hurriedly crosses the room, the others following her.  They run up the stairs, Hermione knocks on the first door on the right.

 

“Han!  Are you decent?  I want you to meet somebody.”

 

They can hear something crashing, a cat hissing, and somebody loudly swearing on the other side.

 

“Honestly, if you did something to Crooks I am going to hex your nipples purple with turquoise dots on them!”      

  
Hermione pushes the door open and reveals a tall blond man with piercing hazel eyes...in a well, rather ungraceful position.    
He is standing in the middle of the room wearing just a pair of Darth Vader-heads-printed boxers, a broken flower pot at his feet, soil all over him, and he is caressing his obviously abused stomach that is covered with cat scratches while he bounces from smiling at the three to scowling at Crookshanks.

 

“Everyone, this is Hannibal my self-proclaimed brother.  Han, meet Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood.  Before either of you utter a word, Harry spill.  Some serious threat has arisen once again, hasn’t it?  What happened?  Where are the others?  Why couldn’t we apparate?  Wha-“   
But before she can ask more questions, she is interrupted, rather rudely.

  
“Sis, breath!”  Han puts his somewhat dirty left arm around her shoulders, smiles reassuringly at her and then looks Harry in the eye, concern visible on his features, and simply states:  “Now is the best time for you to finally speak up Mr. Potter.  You see I really dislike to be rude to a guest, but if you are here to hurt Hermione, I am going to throw you out, and subject you to a random act of violence and terror that would make even Voldy-boy go pale!”

 

Harry gulps and nervously smiles. He is hardly intimidated by Han, but he is somewhat -and in his case quite understandably so- wary of strangers. And truth be told, his best friend having a brother that he has never heard of, unnerves him. But he tries his best not to squirm.  
When Hermione sees Harry’s discomfort, she gently pokes Han in the ribs while she rolls her eyes and fights the need to grin at her brother’s rather melodramatic antics.  Luna merely giggles at them, and in her usual airy way says:  “You are an amusing man Hannibal Granger.”

              
“Why thank you Ms. Lovegood.”  Han flashes a smile at her then expectantly turns back to Harry.  Who clears his throat and takes a deep breath and in a for him so atypical, barely audible, whispering voice he chokes out:

 

“Hermione, we are wanted.  We have to leave the country.  We are wanted!  Wanted!!!  Can you believe this?!  After everything...dead or alive...preferably dead, but we aren’t getting any trial, just an immediate death sentence on the spot!  We have to leave!”

 

At this point he is obviously distraught, until he finally breaks down and begins to cry silently.

 


	2. Gummy Worms and Lethal Politics

Hermione stars disbelievingly at her best friend.

 

“Come again Harry?”  She watches as his tears stream down his cheeks, his eyes locked onto hers, his gaze is so sorrowful and desperate that Hermione knows she is not going to get anything coherent enough out of him for the next few minutes.  She sees him several times opening his mouth and closing it again but no words come out.

 

“Luna, explain.  How could this be?!  We have defeated Voldemort, there wasn’t any strong political party in the wizarding world three months ago that could have caused such radical changes or pushed this kind of policy through!”           
A clearly agitated Hermione begins to pace up and down the room, gesticulating with her hands, worrying her bottom lip while her mind is in overdrive trying to find a logical explanation.  Hannibal watches her, worry and fear for Hermione clearly written on his face.

 

“I-I don’t understand.” She continues. “And believe me I have never before used those three words.  Please Luna explain, I need more information.”  Hermione turned abruptly to face Luna who leads a still silently crying Harry to the couch.  Once they both are seated, she lifts her gaze and meets Hermione’s. Hermione has never seen Luna’s silvery grey eyes _this_ solemn, serious and _resigned_.

 

 _Luna lost her dreaminess.  Not even Voldemort’s regime could break her.  The world must be coming to an end._ At this thought Hermione plops rather unceremoniously down on the rug a few paces away from Luna and Harry’s couch.  Her eyes are never leaving Luna’s clearly tired figure.    
Until finally, Luna clears her throat and picks at the hem of her light blue summer dress and simply asks:

 

“How much do you know about the political situation in wizarding England at the time of the Battle, Hermione Granger?”

 

Hermione is, as almost always when Luna speaks, taken aback. For one, she idly notes that Luna keeps using her full name, which gives a somewhat cringe-worthy undertone to an already delicate conversation. She doesn’t mention this however, because she has a hunch that Luna needs to do this to reassure herself. Besides, the way Luna chose to begin the story is truly troubling. Hermione wasn’t expecting any kind of questions about the political situation at the end of the war, to say the least.  She takes a deep breath as involuntarily images of dismembered bodies, cries that pierced through a dark sky, agony and blood everywhere, and the looming fear of a cackle floods her mind.  Hermione exhales sharply and forces herself to focus.

 

“We were on the run and hiding for several months.”  She begins in a weak whisper.  “But I do know that the Order wasn’t supported enough among the wizarding population.  I assume this was caused by the nationwide terror that spread out after Voldemort overpowered all political organs, including the Ministry itself.  His influence was felt in every part of everyday life.  The state of mind that pushes people to deep fear and constant uncertainty, plus the atmosphere that creates and feeds this, do tend to tip people into inaction and leave them cowering, hoping to avoid any kind of attention, and hoping to survive everything.  Plus it has to be mentioned that this kind of avoiding behaviour, state of mind in the wizarding world do seem to have a long tradition.  That’s why children and teenagers had to fight a war that at the end was caused by adults who refused to address archaic laws or prejudices.” Hermione’s voice trails off uncertainly as she narrows her eyes at Luna in suspicion, she is trying to figure out where exactly Luna wants to go with this line of questioning. Before she can even ask however, she is interrupted by Han fondly patting her on her arm.

 

“Yep, Granger is back!  Long speeches, barely taking a breath while barking out crazy ass long sentences...I missed you sis!”  Hannibal quips, clearly attempting and failing to lift the tension in the room.  Hermione sends him her infamous ‘I-am-extremely-annoyed-with-you-right-now’ look, lifts her eyebrow and indicates with a nod of her head that he should stay quiet and sit down.

 

Hannibal clears his throat, pulls up his rolling chair next to her while muttering something about ‘bossy women and their in-cat-form-crystallized-living-hell as pets’, he reaches to his desk, snatches a bag of gummy worms from next to his computer, and pops a fistful of sweets in his mouth while nodding in Luna’s direction to soundlessly apologise.

 

He then turns to Harry who by now completely tuned out everyone and everything around him.  Hannibal practically pushes the bag of sweets under his nose while slapping him on his shoulder.    

  
“Eat up man, the green and blue worms are the best when you are sad.”  

  
Harry, obviously startled by Han’s rather unusual antics, looks disbelievingly at Hannibal and watches him chewing loudly while still fighting to close his mouth around the shocking amount of gummy worms trying to escape his lips.  Harry in his dumbfounded state mimics Hannibal’s actions and pops a few worms in his mouth.

 

Hermione of course puffs her cheeks and begins to scold her brother.  “Honestly, Han!”   
Her facial expression with her bossy sentence somehow seems to break through Harry’s numbness.  He looks uncertainly at Hermione then back at Hannibal, then at Hermione again. Hermione can see recognition and sparks of warmth dawning in his eyes, then he whispers.  “’Mione.”

  
_He is back. As back as he can be._ She smiles at her friend and reaches out to hold his hand briefly.

 

“You were just partially right.”

 

All three of them turn to Luna, who with a deep breath begins her explanation:

 

“You said, and rightfully so, that because of their fear many chose to remain passive, and you pointed out the pattern of avoidance and the need to conserve the wizarding society in its clearly dysfunctional state.”  She leans forward, furrows her brows slightly and rests her elbows on her knees while staring intently in Hermione’s eyes.

 

“However I believe you are missing one critical point here.”   
She pauses, her sombre tone and unusual clarity in her choice of words lend additional levity to the conversation. After she is sure that Hermione is paying attention she softly says: “Please don’t misunderstand me but I think this is because of your muggle upbringing.”    
When she sees the disbelieving and hurt look that crosses Hermione’s face, she quickly continues.  “Look, your experience of the wizarding world is a filtered one.  You went to a boarding school, the nine months that you spent at Hogwarts, a closed community compared to the entirety of wizarding England, were just barely enough to scratch the surface of the dynamics that moves or conserves the wizarding society.  I know you are the brightest witch of our age, you read as much as you could, practically threw yourself into learning as much about magic and its world as you can, you even kept reading the Prophet.  But there simply are things, customs, traditions, behavioural patterns that for you are still foreign but for a child grown up in a wizarding family are natural.  And now, recent times clearly show that those patterns that were working in the background so far, are going to change our lives. “

 

At this point Luna begins to play with her radish earrings, she leans back and brushes her straggly hair out of her eyes.  Hermione looks thoughtfully at her.  Luna rarely speaks completely understandable for her, but when she does she always gives Hermione a lot to work through.

 

Luna glances at the other three.  Harry looks stunned, and Hannibal is munching on a red-yellow gummy worm, lazily but attentively flicking his gaze between Luna and Hermione.  Luna licks her lips and continues.  “However accurate Hogwarts and its curriculum seem to be, they have serious drawbacks.  Muggle Studies are offered, but nothing like...hmm...I believe the muggles would say ‘Wizarding Cultural and Law Studies’.  As a result I am going to explain quite a lot now before we can actually cut to our current situation.”

 

Hermione nods, then slowly, absentmindedly grabs four bottles of water from under the coffee table and gives one to everyone.

 

“Both Dumbledore and Voldemort divided the wizarding world.” Luna begins anew.  “Dumbledore was widely respected, envied, looked upon and feared too, since he truly was one of the most powerful wizards of recent time.  But all this applies to Voldemort as well.  True, he didn’t have a grandfatherly persona to hide his manipulations, Voldemort was openly cruel, bloodthirsty, possessed, violent and evil.  If you want to look at it like this, you could say they are the opposite sides of the same coin.  Two extremes, light and dark.” Hermione’s dislike to think in such seemingly clearly cut dichotomies almost compels her to interrupt Luna. But she is rather curious where her friend wants to go with this line of reasoning. And she has a hunch that the word ‘seemingly’ is about to be verified, so she stays silent.

 

“Tell me Hermione Granger, have you ever wondered why Dumbledore and the ‘light side’ couldn’t prevent the second rise of Voldemort?” Luna’s intonation becomes gradually livelier the more she speaks, indicating how passionate she is, despite the rather depressing subject. She hurriedly continues: ”There could have been laws, steps to help the cause.  Or if it was clear for just a few people on the ‘light side’ even back then that a second rise is inevitable, they could have at least made plans to avoid this great destruction that happened in the last 2 years, don’t you think?”   
She cocks her head to the side, in a clear sign that she wants to hear Hermione’s thoughts now.

 

“I have always thought that several of Voldemort’s supporters could remain in their positions in the Ministry, not to mention that the pure-blood families have always been able to financially back up their cause.  But based on what you said so far, this must be just a part of the truth.” Hermione says.

 

“Indeed.” Luna smiles at her quickly, before explaining:  “After the first war many believed that he was gone for good, or at least chose to ignore the signs.  Everybody threw themselves in the celebrations, but after that they just wanted to forget, to move on.  Without addressing the social problems that could have lead to the war.  There wasn’t a nationwide open discussion about how from now.  There wasn’t a clear cut, there wasn’t a new beginning, just discontinuity.”

Here she pauses for emphasise and looks slowly at everyone, before she meets Hermione’s eyes once again and continues:

 

“You were right when you mentioned the avoiding and conserving nature of the biggest part of the wizarding society.  The remaining parts that want a change are either the Death Eaters or the Order.  What you said was true, but you extremely underestimated the ‘grey zone’ of the political platform.  People who were passively standing by, hoping to avoid being slaughtered, neither dark nor light.  After the first war they voiced their want to move on but without any structural changes.  Return to the pre-war circumstances, preserving was their policy.  That’s why a man of Fudge’s calibre was in charge for so long, not a more charismatic leader from the light side, for example Kingsley.”

 

At this point Hermione abruptly stands up and begins to pace while biting her bottom lip.

 

“Our fifth year...” She trails off.

 

“Exactly.” Luna says in an excited voice. “You are beginning to see it.  _That_ year was just a glimpse of what the ‘grey zone’ is capable of.”

 

Hermione stops, they all can see her mind racing, she takes a deep breath, and hastily blurts out her thoughts.  “The second war, it was much bloodier than the first.  The casualties were...previously never seen before, unimaginable.  Everyone was pulled in it, no matter what side they stood on or where they cowered.”

 

She looks up and sees Luna nodding encouragingly, indicating for Hermione to continue her train of thought.

 

“But _now_ the situation is unlike before, not just because Voldemort died for good.  Both side’s leaders died, most of the older members of the Order were murdered during the first war, or at the beginning of this last one, the age of the fighters on the light side shifted to us, teenagers.  Not to mention that during this war most of the remaining prominent older members died too.  Apart from Minerva and Kings.  But the other side suffered severe losses too especially during the Battle, Lestrange for example.  Not to mention that without their leader they are unable to enter the political life, since most of them are wanted criminals.”  She pauses her frantic explanation for a long moment, before continuing even faster:

 

“Which means that both light and dark are without any leader figures...” She trails off, as recognition dawns on her features. Hermione looks desperately, almost pleadingly at Luna and practically shouts.  “No!  This can’t be happening!  After everything...Luna!  Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is!”

 

Her sudden outburst caused Hannibal to choke on his gummy worms, he began to cough violently while trying to maintaining a ‘care-to-elaborate’ expression.  While he is fighting to regain his breathing Harry, knowing what is it about to come, snatches the bag of sweets from Han’s hands and gestures Luna to continue.

 

Luna sighs heavily, before she slowly, in small, slap-like sentences says:

  
“I’m afraid it is.  The political situation changed drastically.  The most prominent figure now is Morgan Selach. He is the leader of a political group who calls themselves ‘The 3rd Path’.  They claim that they come from the ‘grey zone’. Their agenda is blaming both dark and light. Saying the wars were caused by both of them.  True, the dark side was the aggressor but the light responded just as violently. And furthermore they couldn’t prevent the second rise of Voldemort. So what says that they are successful in the future if another maniac happens to grab the power for himself?”

 

Luna combs through her hair quite irritated then continues her explanation in a for her extremely atypical, slightly bitter voice:  “Selach speaks of _‘preserving the equilibrium by cutting off the extremes’_ , his propaganda says _‘peace and progress with consensus and force if it’s needed to tear out the roots of problems from the body of the wizarding society’._ I’m sure you can see how easily he could manipulate mindless masses, and sadly nobody but just a few can recognise how truly dangerous his agenda is...”

 

Hermione interrupts her in righteous outrage and rather rudely:  “This is nonsense!  Bloody hell, everything you say indicates that he is on his way to build up a dictatorship!  Next thing you are going to tell me there is some kind of semi-militant group around him that has already begun with ‘ _cleaning the society of dangerous elements’_.”

 

“They are called ‘Blue Jackets’.” Luna answers her in a deadpan voice.

 

“What the bloody hell were you thinking coming just _now_ to get me?” Hermione gapes at both of her friends, before she can think through her words better. “We have to fight, to organise a resistance, to stop this madness somehow!”  By now she is shouting at the top of her lungs, but her big words and misplaced outrage can’t hide just how terrified she is becoming. When she sees the dark look on Harry’s and the expectant one on Luna’s face, she takes a deep breath and clenches her fists trying to regain her composure.  

  
“Give me a few minutes, I’m not thinking logically nor clearly right now.  I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”  She paces for a few minutes up and down the room then she takes her previous seat on the ground and looks up determined at Luna.

              
“Tell me what measures Selach has taken so far.” Luna places her hand on Harry’s, silently asking him to let her deal with Hermione and let her explain the situation to their friend. When Harry nods, she begins anew in a soft, serious tone:

 

“A month after the war, in June there were elections, by then his propaganda about a safe future, peace and ‘preventing’ future dangerous situations like the one that led to the wars has won over the majority of wizarding England.  The Order and even the remaining Death Eaters and their supporters were considerably weakened after the Final Battle, and the general chaos that always remains after so much fighting, well none of them knew what hit them until it was too late.  Both sides practically stood dumbfounded while a previously never seen political force rose to the top of wizarding England.”   
Remembering those first signs of just how wrong everything could go, makes Luna fidget slightly. She begins to play with her outlandish earrings. Hermione absentmindedly notices, how this must be another one of Luna’s quirks that helps her ground herself in the present. She reaches out silently and takes Luna’s free hand that limply lays on her lap into her own in a sign of silent support. She squeezes Luna’s hand gently. Luna smiles at Hermione weakly then continues:

 

“Morgan Selach was elected as the Minister of Magic, and he immediately began to make his agenda reality while maintaining his image of a ‘ _thoughtful captain that leads the battered ship of the wizarding society to more quite and safer waters’_. First thing he began to recruit the Blue Jackets from his most loyal supporters.  They are wearing blue dragon hide and by now they are feared both by previous Order members and Death Eaters.  Selach of course began to ‘ _clean_ ’ the _‘wizarding society’s sick parts’_ which of course means murdering people.” At this point, Luna is squeezing Hermione’s hand back, and when she hears how Hermione’s breathing slowly turns erratic, she begins to gently rub the back of her hand.

 

“By Mid-June he managed to set up the first few squads of the Blue Jackets and a functioning propaganda bureau that easily justifies their every action, and reminds people that this is for the greater good, and it’s just temporary to secure the situation.” Luna pauses, meets Hermione’s eye again, and continues in an even softer voice:  “After that his _‘consensus or force if needed_ ’ politics reached its full efficiency.  While most of the wizarding population saw, and still sees him, as a saviour from conflicting ideas that tear their society apart and are potentially lethal to them, the remaining dark and light forces began to melt under his cleverly given compromises or under his ruthless cruelty.” Knowing what she must say, she reaches out for Harry as well, holding both of her friends’ hands.

 

“Prominent supporters of the dark agenda such as Lucius Malfoy were publically executed, but this is true of the light side too, Kingsley is dead.”

 

A shocked gasp and a sharp intake of air can be heard in the room, but Luna continues immediately in a strange voice void of any intonation.

 

“Several people from both sides were abducted without any consideration of age.  We assume that they were tortured because the few of them who came back were changed.  Like brainwashed, at least I believe that’s what the muggles would call it. They became very enthusiastic supporters of Selach.  But most of the disappeared ones never came back, we think that they are dead...” 

By this point her voice became very detached and businesslike, Hermione recognises this coping mechanism, after all, she herself is still using it as well. Now, even Luna’s eyes become hollow, which in turn truly make Hermione fear what else Luna is about to say.

 

“I couldn’t find out where the captives are held or what exactly is done to them.” His breath leaves Harry as if he were kicked in the stomach, Luna knows what this sentence means for him, so she tries to hug him, but he shies away. So she meets Hermione’s troubled gaze again and explains somewhat: “My sources failed to gather information, and by now they must be dead too.  We assumed however that a newer, experimental method of torture is used. Most likely the prison or headquarters of Selach and his Blue Jackets is somewhere in London.”

 

She sighs, rubs her eyes, reaches out to hold both of Hermione’s hands and keeps on talking in a tired tone.

 

“I told you his politic is force or consensus.  After executing the most prominent members of both sides, like the Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber and several others, on the other side Arthur, Aberforth, Diggle and Doge...”

 

“What?!”

 

“He is using compromises, consensus to secure his political base, and to build the security of the wizarding future in steel.”  Here she looks at her teary eyed friend and asks Hermione softly:  “Please, don’t interrupt me. I have to tell you all this before we can move into more personal matters.”  Hermione nods weakly, still trying to fight her tears.

 

“As a result he makes deals to break down any kind of resistance to its core, even before any ideas could reach the surface.  He needs the influence and the money of the pure-blood families, so he promised them he would stop the murdering and the open hunt after them, if they subject themselves for regular controls, meaning they are spied upon and their every move is reported.  In exchange for their money he changed laws, and now you must be at least a half-blood to be able to fill leading political roles.” Her eyes stray to Han’s extremely pale face, she knows that he understands the seriousness of the situation. She turns back to Hermione:

 

“The deal with the light side couldn’t be this general, we always have been a rather colourful group so to speak.  Professor McGonagall taught practically 70% of wizarding England, she is widely respected and cherished, that’s why she couldn’t have been executed.  Instead she was forced into a deal.  She had to either accept the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts, with a Ministry approved Inspector of course, and refrain from all kinds of political engagement, or an Ex-Death Eater would have taken up this position, and every student’s past would have been evalued, and suspicious activities would have been punished.  You know her, how protective she is of her students, she chose her own muteness and inaction in order for her student’s pardons.”   
Luna shies. And in this moment she wishes they were living in a world, where her only concerns could be whether or not nargles are nagging her friends. Not how at every turn they could get hurt, or even how she must deliver heart breaking news to them. She wishes she could take away the hurt. But she can’t. The only thing she can do, is to be there for them when the world tries to hurt them. So she reaches out with her right hand and begins to softly caress Hermione’s cheekbone, as if she were trying to ease the blow.

 

“The Weasley’s...well...as you can imagine with Fred’s and Arthur’s deaths they all broken, especially Molly, so she agreed to anything that would keep her remaining family members safe.  As a result she is a part of Selach’s propaganda.  At each of his public outings she is there and preaches about how good he is to our society.”

By now Hermione is openly crying, so Luna bends down and gathers her in her arms. She feels that Harry is trying to comfort Hermione as well. On his own rather clumsy way. After all, in their friendship Hermione is the tactile one. Nevertheless he pats her on the shoulder and looks up at Han rather helplessly. Han’s fear for his sister makes him teary eyed as well, but he reaches out and begins to caress Hermione’s back in slow, soothing circles. Luna kisses Hermione in the top of her head, but she knows that she has to finish this conversation. So she begins to whisper in Hermione’s wild hair, while paying attention not to let her embrace become looser:

 

“Bill and Fleur had to leave the country since she was stamped as dangerous because of her ‘creature-blood’ and their future children would have been monitored too, so they fled. We don’t know anything about Charlie, Percy on the other hand is enthusiastic about the new order in the chaos that used to be the Ministry and he is leading the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.  George vanished, Ron is well...”

 

Here, for the first time Harry takes over the storytelling.  His voice is a bit raspy from not using it for a long time, but the more he says the stronger it gets, even his posture changes, like telling Hermione would lift an invisible weight from his shoulders.

“He is a complete jerk!  A bloody idiot!  He bought everything Selach has been saying, and he thinks I’m dangerous and he shouldn’t associate with the ‘ _likes of me and my muggle-born scarlet woman of a friend’!_ ”

 

“What?!”  Hannibal roars in outrage but before he can say anything else, his sister interrupts him.

 

“THAT BASTARD!!!” She looks up so fast that she almost headbutts Luna. “I’m going to feed his pieces...” But before she can even begin her rant, Harry holds his hand up.

“Wait for it ‘Mione it gets better!  Selach said that Ron is a hero of this war and for his actions he is going to get the Order of Merlin first class, since he was always with us, and supervised us, meaning you and me, so we couldn’t get any ideas and grab the power and take over the British wizarding world after Voldemort’s death!” He finishes with an unattractive sneer and a rather impressive eye-roll.

 

After news like this Hermione is speechless for what feels like the first time in her life.  She turns to Luna and whispers rather difficultly.  “Is this true Luna?”        

  
“I’m sorry Hermione.” She sincerely answers and hugs Hermione fiercely again.

 

They all remain sitting silently for the next few minutes.  Sister and brother are gathering their thoughts, trying to process everything they heard.  Luna and Harry seem to be lost in memories.

 

Hermione fidgets in her spot, then finally says.  “Luna, please continue, I have to know everything, before we can decide on our next curse of action.  What about Gin?  And the remaining members of Dumbledore’s Army?  Could we count on them?  And how is Selach managing the observation and guarding of the society?  How does he control and monitor our actions?”

 

Before Luna could have opened her mouth, Harry beats her to it.  “Gin is gone.”  He has a faraway look on his face, his brokenness has never been as apparent as now.

  
“Is she – is she dead?” Hermione asks fearfully.

  
“No,” he laughs bitterly, “but she might as well be.”  Here he looks up at her.  “You know how fierce she has always been.  She stood by me and our case until she was kidnapped and brainwashed.  Now she supports Selach and doesn’t even recognise me.  Gin has completely changed, she is silent, never smiles and rarely speaks, and even if she does it’s showing her support to Selach and his system.”

 

The room is silent again, the gravity of their situation hanging in the air, until Luna breaks it.  “You asked about the other DA members.  Neville’s grandmother pleaded with him to stay in the background and to keep silent, she doesn’t want to lose him too, as she lost his parents.  Her hopelessness and the general situation broke him too, he dedicates all his time to Herbology and he seemingly cut all his ties to the outside world.  Any other members were either brainwashed, or in a state of total numbness, so they are useless.”

 

“As for the controlling:” she hurriedly continues, before either of her friends begin to cry again, “all floo networks and apparitions are monitored.  More precisely the magical signature that is activating them is being scanned.  This way they know when and where ‘suspicious’ individuals are going, plus they can instantly capture the ones on the Wanted List.”

 

Hermione’s curious gaze prompts her to explain:

 

“The original Wanted List is a charmed parchment hidden somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.  It enlists _everybody_ who was deemed to be a threat of the ‘ _equilibrium and peace of wizarding England’._   More importantly they gathered samples of magical signatures of nearly everybody who is wanted.  So even if you were to disguise yourself you can’t use any type of magical transportation.  Plus you can’t enter main places in the magical world because the wards too have been altered to scan and recognise wanted or suspicious people.  Under main magical places I mean the Ministry, St. Mungos, Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Diagon Alley, Gringotts and so on.” She sees, how astonished and morbidly fascinated Hermione looks. She know her friend well enough to know intellectual challenges, or to give her something to think about are the fastest way to calm her somewhat. The best that she can do for Hermione now, is to explain everything that she can:

 

“Furthermore, once the original List has been altered, every existing copies all over wizarding England change too.  As a part of propaganda, and as reminders of the _‘crimes and dark times’_ those people on the List supposed to have caused, their pictures, with the detailed descriptions of what they have done, the Ministry’s verdict about them and the price for their dead bodies hang all over the walls of every building that magical folk frequents.”

 

At Hermione’s horrified look, Luna sighs deeply, tiredly then slowly carries on:

 

“It isn’t that difficult to get on that list.  And believe me, everybody is trying their hardest to avoid getting on it because of the _‘kill on the spot’_ rule, and the fear of generally being an outcast.  This is allowed by the newest laws they say that the wanted ones are _‘stripped of their human status because of their crimes against the wizarding population, and as such they shall be treated as extremely dangerous animals’_ that could tore the order in our world apart at any time.”

 

“I-I can’t believe this...” Hermione is almost stuttering in her utter dismay. Luna merely scowls at no one in particular, the gesture is so foreign on her pretty features that Hermione just stares at her for a long moment, until Luna seemingly snaps out of her state with a suspicious cheerfulness. Which immediately makes Hermione dread what exactly is about to come out of Luna’s mouth.

 

“You dear Hermione Jean Granger are the second on that list.” And true to her suspicions, Hermione’s yaw drops and she just gapes at Luna, while Han’s posture becomes rigid with fear for her sister. They both silently compel Luna to elaborate: “I’m going to mostly quote what there is written about you.  You are supposed to be the ‘mastermind’ behind Potter’s actions and the outcome of the recent war.  You planned the most spectacular break in at Gringotts, you are the most promising, most intelligent warrior that the so called light side has.  You are possibly the only potential leader that the group of murderers known as the Order of the Phoenix has, and lastly you are the epitome of everything that an unregistered and unmonitored muggle-born witch could do to the wizarding world.”

 

At this point Luna flashes her brightest, dreamiest and extremely proud smile at a truly dumfounded Hermione.  She is so overwhelmed by everything that she has heard that at first she doesn’t even notices Hannibal chuckling at her.  Until he slaps Hermione on her back and says in a faux-cheerful voice:   
“Way to go sis!  I have always known you are going to make yourself a name in the wizarding world!”  He tries to laugh, but it sounds strained, almost as if he is not sure whether he should cry or laugh. At the end he begins to ramble: “Ehm...I mean it’s not funny that you are a wanted criminal, but I’m still proud of you for being a mastermind and not some minion!”  He pouts at her, and his antics, and most importantly the worry in his eyes that he tries to hide for Hermione’s shake, instantly makes Hermione crack a smile, however how weak one. She reaches out and fondly pats him on the knees. Then she turns back to her friends, and asks in a rather playful voice:

 

“All right, and what prey tell have the two of you done?” She is teasing both Harry and Luna, because by now she has no idea what more is going to be thrown at her way.

 

“Well I’m the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One,” Harry picks up on her attempt, and so he gestures to himself rather melodramatically, drops his voice to a deeper yet snotty, bragging register,  “which alone must show that I am connected to the dark too, and I’m the epitome of everything that could go wrong in the wizarding world.  Plus the second war was actually my fault because I didn’t die the first time around.”  Harry waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly but rather clumsily at Hermione, which makes her snort indelicately.

 

“Please, that’s the bloodiest crap I have ever heard!  How can people believe that nonsense?!”             
“Trust me, they do.” Harry breaths on his nails, and sits up straighter, almost as if he were gloating with his ‘success’. Hermione chuckles and throws her empty water bottle at him. Then turns to Luna with a smile.

  
“Luna what have you done?  Don’t tell me you are the leader of a highly dangerous creature army that nobody has seen so far?”

  
“Actually no.  I am a spy for the Order and an enemy of the arising new order with my dangerous and destructive ideas.” Luna says this with the most disbelieving voice, her expression showing that she couldn’t possibly ever imagine, how anyone could think she has any remotely interesting ideas at all. She nails her role so perfectly that the three friends burst out laughing. But then their mood quickly sobers.

 

“What exactly is with this Morgan Selach?  I don’t think that he is acting only because of power.” Hermione muses.

 

“No, you are right.  The only information I could gather about him indicates that he has a personal vendetta against the Death Eaters who killed his family and against the Order who failed to protect them.” Luna offers.

 

They all stare at each other, silently gathering their thoughts.

 

“Have the two of you thought of what we are going to do now?” Hermione finally asks. “And by the way how come you found me just now?  And now that I think about it how did you get here when we can’t apparate?”

 

“Well,” Harry begins, “ _somebody_ decided oh so kindly to drop off of the face of the Earth just an hour after the Final Battle ended.  We needed two months to find you!  That’s why we came just now.”  Under his reprimanding stare Hermione blushes slightly.  “And as for how if not apparition, that is Luna’s story to tell.”  They both look expectantly at Luna who smiles at them.

 

“That was a quite entertaining piece of magic to do!” She begins jovially, which makes Hermione on spot wary what exactly Luna is up to. “You know that patroni are able to carry messages very fast over long distances.  So I thought I could cast a patronus with the intention to find you, then charm it to not be a corporal one but to use my body as a _‘host’_ so this way the magic could carry us.  It was even less nauseating than apparition!”  She looks dreamily at the others.

 

Hermione stutters at her sheer creativity.  “That-that’s brilliant Luna!”   
And suddenly Hermione feels grateful that she is fortunate enough to have friends like Harry and Luna. How brilliant and strong they both are. And they love her enough to forgive her absence and carry their friendship on, despite her seemingly abandoning them. She shyly smiles at both Luna and Harry. Harry blushes and rights his glasses on his nose in embarrassment, but he acknowledges her with a nod. Luna on the other hand smiles happily and toothily back at Hermione. However she doesn’t say anything apart from answering her:

 

“Back to one of your original questions, we don’t have any idea what we should do.  We just wanted to find you before Selach could.  But we haven’t planned after that.”  Now that you know what is happening, do you have any suggestions on what our curse of action should be?”

 

Hermione looks thoughtfully at her friends, smiles at her brother, she drums a soft rhythm on her chin, then straightens her back suddenly and says.  “As a matter of fact, I have an idea.”

              
With that she snatches a gummy worm out of Hannibal’s hands.


	3. A Safe, a Stranger and the Silence

Harry Potter is a man who managed to trick death once, then 16 years later even conquer it.  He looked in the inhuman eyes of a monster, stood in front of him and waited for _that_ spell.    
Suffice it to say that in all his eighteen years he experienced more than any other person during their whole life.

 

But when Harry looks at his best friend who appears to be in a semi-feverish state of excitement while she is still thinking about her idea, well...all his bravery flies out of the window and he feels a dread creep up his spine.

 

 _I really hope this time her idea doesn’t involve dragons._ He has to shudder at this thought.

Harry turns his gaze in Luna’s direction to gauge her reaction to Hermione’s rather unique way of planning.  Luna smiles dreamily at Hermione, while she is intently observing the... _air..._ around her, most likely seeing creatures unknown to Harry.

 

 _This is going to be a long night..._ Harry shakes his head and sighs soundlessly _._

He looks at Hannibal who is either _extremely_ fond of his sweets, since he is rummaging after the last few pieces in the bag, or absolutely oblivious to his sister’s tendency to cook up genial, but scary plans.  _Scary_ being the key word here.  That breakout of Gringotts taught Harry some hard truths.  How eternally grateful he is to have Hermione as a friend, never ever again underestimate her, and he learned to embrace that awestruck respect with a hint of fear that Hermione now causes him to sometimes feel.  He looks back up at her.

              
She seems like she is glowing.  Sheer determination, willpower and strength is radiating from her.  Hermione is pacing up and down, but now all her steps are measured, her posture is stiff, her left hand is either in her hair, that by now is extraordinarily dishevelled, or caressing her chin, in her right hand she is still holding that sole gummy worm, her eyes directed down at the ground but the excited gleam in them makes clear that she doesn’t see anything right now.

 

Harry nervously gulps and waits.  Hermione suddenly stops in mid-step and hastily turns to her friends.  A knowing, close mouthed smile is on her face and the look in her eyes makes Harry breath _freely_ for the first time since this new run has begun, he returns her smile then pats Luna’s leg.  They, all three of them, are together in this, and Hermione just made both Luna and Harry believe now for the first time that somehow they are going to make it.  They both look up at Hermione expectantly.

 

“Luna, do you know anything about how the borders are controlled?  I know, there is no magical way we could leave the country, but what about the muggle ways?  Is Selach monitoring them too?” Hermione finally asks.

 

“Wait!”  Harry squeaks rather ungracefully.  “You want to just... _leave_?”  He sees Hannibal turning his head abruptly to Hermione and looking at her with barely concealed anxiety in his eyes.

 

“Yes.  As a matter of fact, we have to.”  She turns to her brother and whispers sorrowfully.  “I am sorry, but we have no other choice.”

 

Hannibal’s whole body language changes.  This is the first time in the evening when Hermione, Luna and Harry can see a tired man behind that sweets-loving, clumsy façade.     
“I understand.  I am going to help you.”  Brother and sister stare in each other’s eyes, silently communicating, their determination matching the other’s.

 

Hermione looks back at her friends, she squares her shoulders and stands straighter.

 

“Luna?”

 

“Selach doesn’t have enough manpower to have total control over the muggle borders.” Luna begins.  “Don’t misunderstand me _there are_ constant controls, but mostly they are just randomly picking out and stopping the vehicles.  But you have to know, all the bigger airports in the country and the biggest train stations are monitored all the time.  Also, there are several charms placed on them that detect and reverse all kinds of glamour charms or body modifying potions.  I don’t know if they could somehow expand these detection wards and charms so they can work not just in a concentrated area, but to cover a bigger geographical distance too.  I’m afraid, they might be able to place them on the border too, to check everybody who leaves the country.  But on the positive side every type of charm that scans your magical signature is too complex to spread all over the border, so with that we have to count just if we use magical transportation or the main stations or airports.  Which we won’t I believe.  Oh and, naturally his men are clothed as the muggle aurors.”

 

Hermione smiles again and lifts her eyebrow.  “This is better than I hoped for!  Excellent!  We are going to alter our appearances the muggle way, so it can’t be detected.”

              
She walks up to her brother, looks in his hazel eyes and ruffles his messy dark blond hair.  “Han?”

 

“Say no more, you can count on me.  It’s time for muggle magic.”  His smile makes him somehow appear frightening, despite the fact that he is only wearing a pair of sci-fi themed boxers.  He stands up, pushes his rolling chair to his desk, snatching a new bag of sweets on his way.  Once at his desk he sits down, opens his laptop and begins to type something.

 

Luna obviously wants to ask Hermione what he is doing, but Harry has other plans.

 

“You want to leave?!  Why?  After everything!  How could we?!”  He is clearly agitated, and by now even more impatient.

 

“Yes.”  Hermione sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch, crosses her ankles and puts her hands in her pockets.  “As I said before, we have no choice.”

 

“But why?!  We are Gryffindors!  We do not _flee_!”

 

Hermione lifts her left eyebrow and stars incredulously at Harry, as if she were asking, _Seriously?,_ Harry blushes a bit _._

“I’m going to explain.  Let’s assume we can define ‘power’.  What exactly would it be?” Hermione asks once she sees Harry isn’t backing down.

 

“Concentrated magical abilities?”  Luna offers thoughtfully.

 

“Hmm, almost, this certainly is a part of it, but when you see power as something that moves and acts within the whole magical society, then you should add something to your definition.  I say, power arises when people begin to work together.”

 

Here Hermione pauses and waits for her friends’ reactions.  Luna seems to take her words in, and Hermione knows she is going to figure out what she _truly_ meant by that.  Harry on the other hand... well, he does his best imitation of a drugged sheep.  Hermione sighs then chuckles at her friend.

 

“Look at it this way:  it isn’t enough if you just combine magical abilities.  You have to make plans, organise, interact with others, try to win people for your cause.  In other words, in order to have power and be effective in achieving anything, you have to work together with others.  Sadly, Selach knows this as well, that’s why he eliminated all threats he could on both the light and dark side, the remaining potential leaders are either brainwashed or bound by magic not to do anything.  He has already built up a system of repression, which means even if we had hundreds of aurors on our side, we couldn’t collapse his regime with a frontal attack.  For starters that would lead to a full blown war, where we would have severe disadvantages.”  She takes a deep breath, fidgets a bit on the table, and sits up Indian style.

 

“Selach is a dictator.  Sure, he covers himself with any kind of layers that could let him appear more precious to the majority of magical England.  He gains his authority by manipulating the masses, he is pretending to respect others and their wishes.  I assume he is portrayed as a friendly wizard, on whose sole shoulders lay the nation’s problems.  Maybe he is giving interviews to the Witch Weekly where he pretends to tell personal secrets and talks about his passion to cook or something equally banal that lets him appear more _human_.  More trustworthy, till almost no one questions what exactly is behind the curtains, what violence he uses.”

 

Here Hermione glances at Luna as if questioning she was right in her assumptions, when she sees her nod, and that Harry is paying rapt attention, she continues.  “Can you see how with tricks like these, and using his propaganda machine he practically _numbs_ the wizarding public’s attention to a state of unconsciousness?  He has all the devices to influence the masses.  And this means he can condemn and denigrate anybody and anything.  He is already turning the majority of wizarding England against us with his Wanted Lists.  Even if we had enough aurors to openly attack him and kill him, the remains of his system would turn against us, rebel against us, see us as traitors.  That’s why we have to carefully plan, how we are going to collapse his system in itself, burying him and anybody like him with it.  To do so we need time, and security, we have neither of them here in England.  Hell, we don’t even have any allies, there is the three of us against a whole totalitarian magical state with a maniac on top of it!”

 

Her cheeks are flushed.  The more she talks, the more passionate she gets.  Hermione can’t even sit any more, she gets up.  The determined gleam is back in her eyes in full force.  The confidence of someone who knows she is fighting for the right, for her beliefs, for her ideals floods off of her.    
This is the girl who fought for equal rights for house elves.  
This is the woman who saved Harry and his mission countless times in the last year.

 

“So you want to go abroad to gain allies and to plan carefully?”  Harry asks with a timid smile.

 

“Basically, yes.  We have to find a way to reach out for the public in wizarding England.  If we could turn the public against Selach, that would be the beginning of his end.  The public is where political actions take place, that’s why he tries to control it with his image, propaganda or with force.”

 

Hermione puffs her cheeks and once again runs her hand through her hair that by now is ‘simply’ defying gravity, it stands out in all kinds of directions.

 

“But we have a problem.”

  
“An even bigger one, that we had until now?”  Hermione glares at Harry.  “Ehm, yes, sorry, please continue.”

  
“I don’t know how long it is going to take till we can find allies, begin to make and execute plans.  I don’t know when or if we are coming back.  Everything is going to be so uncertain, we are once again on the run...”  She looks at her friends with a sad half smile.  “You should brace yourself that if we fail, we are never coming back.  Our whole life as we know it is about to change.  Even the last bit of similarities to our old lives from before the war is going to be cut.”

 

She looks at her brother.  He is with his back to them but his stiff pose clearly shows that he heard her.

 

“Don’t even think about it.”  Han turns his chair and looks at the three young adults.  “Hermione, I told you, I am going to help, and don’t worry, we are going to figure the rest out somehow.”  He curls his lips in a smile.  “And now down to business.  I am going to need about a day then you can leave England.  So you have enough time to think about how exactly you are going to do that, plan carefully your ‘camouflage’, and gather the things you need.”

 

Hermione looks at him silently for a few moments then nods.  “Alright.”  She glances at the clock on the wall.  “It’s barely past ten, the evening is still young.  Are you tired or could we begin our preparations right now?”  She asks her friends.

 

Luna stands up and walks to the door, somehow even her steps appear dreamy, yet graceful like a dancer’s.  Hermione just smiles at her, thinking not for the first time how she missed Luna’s oddity.  Once one is past the initial shock, you become quite addictive to her and her ways.

 

“Well, that answers your question ‘Mione.”  Sighs Harry and follows Luna.

 

“Bye Han.  We are going to be back in a few hours.  Till then behave.”  She ruffles his hair but Han swats her hand away.

 

“OK, but you tell that to your cat!  But now seriously, please take care.” He reaches out and holds her hand for a moment solemnly.

 

“Always.” She vows seriously.  “Later.” She hastily bends down and kisses him on the cheek.

 

Hermione finds her friends waiting for her at the front door.  They both have their wands already in their hands.

 

Hermione also pulls hers out, opens the door, and once all three of them are on the street, she looks back and watches the wards on the house activate.

 

“Don’t worry, nobody with magical abilities is in a 5 km radius around this area.  Nobody, apart from us.  They would have triggered my charms.” She tries to reassure Luna and Harry. Both of them visibly relax.

 

“Where are we going?” Harry ask curiously.

  
“We are going to retrieve a few items from one of my secret places, Harry.”  Seeing his facial expression, she elaborates.    
“Before we went on the run last summer, well let’s just say I made several plans.  Obliviating my parents, charming my beaded bag and filling it were just a few of them.  I made a muggle bank account with all the money that I got for selling my parents’ house, practice and cars.  My bankcard and several items that we could use now are in a safe place not far from here.  You know, if something would have went extremely wrong last year, if somehow we would have been forced to enter the muggle world for a longer period of time to hide or re-group, I wanted us to have every kind of advantage that we could get.  So now you are going to see what my worst case scenario plan involved.”  Hermione finishes her sentence with a cheeky smile and with a wink at an awestruck Harry.

 

“Ah, before I forget.”  Hermione says. “Did you save and bring any of your possessions from the wizarding world with you?  Apart from your wands of course.  I don’t know how hastily you left, but I have to ask this question, maybe you have something with you that might help us with the planning.”

 

Harry nods absentmindedly. At the end of the street Hermione turns to the left and walks in the direction of a park.  Harry notices that she... _carries herself differently_?  Her strides are longer and more graceful than they were in May.  She looks straight ahead, not at the ground.  Her whole posture radiates confidence but in a natural way.  Her presence is calming and somehow leaves a powerful impression behind.

 

 _As if she has found herself.  She is at peace, she truly has changed a lot._ Harry muses.

As if Luna is sharing his line of thought, well in her own unique way at least, she tilts her head towards Hermione and dreamily says.  “Hermione Granger, did you know that all your wracksprouts are gone?  Without them pulling your hair and nagging at your ears you are more at ease.”

 

Hermione looks back at her friends and smiles at Luna warmly.

 

“Why, thank you, Luna!”

              
“And to answer your question: yes!  We took a page from your book.” Luna grins at Hermione when she says this.  “A week or so after the Final Battle Harry wanted to desperately talk to somebody other than the Weasley’s, and since you seemingly dropped off of the face of the Earth, not returning any time soon, he found me.  Back then no one saw what exactly was happening, no one could have thought that Selach was going to gain power so quickly.  But despite the chaos caused by the end of the war, there were a few ominous signs.  So when we met I addressed my concerns, and this had Harry on high alert immediately, as you can imagine.”

 

While Luna is re-calling her memories, she is skipping down the path next to Hermione.  She occasionally touches trees in her way, or picks up leaves.  Although she seems to be her normal dreamy self, time to time her eyes wander intently around them, searching for any sign of danger.  She pauses in her story, hums a few notes then continues.  “He asked me to apply a weight and undetectable extension charm on a bag.”  Here she pokes her thumb in Harry’s direction. “Like you did on yours.”

 

Harry fishes a simple dark blue cotton bag out of his jumper pocket.  He fills Hermione in about the rest.  “I emptied my vault at Gringotts as soon as I was patched up enough.”  He chuckles a bit and playfully bumps Hermione’s shoulder with his.  “After all I wasn’t that sure about the goblins waiting for me with open arms after our little and very _dragony_ stunt.  So I have my cloak, my snitch, the Map, my broom and all my money with me.  Luna bought a few books and several items that I couldn’t even name.”  Luna hums her agreement.

 

Hermione sighs, resists the urge to lightly roll her eyes, but nevertheless smiles at her friends sincerely.  This is somehow so typical for them. She should have awaited something like this. But at least they are all together. And this truly makes her happy, despite the circumstances.    
She stops and looks at them.  “Alright, we are going to talk about your bag later.  But now, we are about to leave the protected area, so I believe we have to somehow conceal ourselves.”

 

She watches as Luna puts a scarf on her head and shoulders, covering her hair and most of her face.  Harry pulls up his hood, both of them readying their wands, all previous light heartedness gone from their faces.  Hermione pulls her hair in a lose ponytail and covers her head with her hood and begins to walk again.

 

The soil is concealing the sounds of their steps and thankfully the trees are old enough, so they can’t be seen that easily.  Nevertheless they walk in silence for the next few minutes.

Three more steps and they reach another street.  Hermione concentrates so she can feel any usage of magic nearby, if she can hear anything suspicious, but nothing seems out of ordinary, so she steps on the pavement, hastily crossing the road and turning at the first occasion to the right.  They are on a wider street, on both sides imposing Victorian houses, old plane trees and lamps stretch in the air.

 

 _About ten more minutes and we are there._ She thinks worriedly _._

“So, tell us Hermione, how comes you have a brother whom you have never mentioned to us?” Luna asks pointedly.           
_She is clever.  Three people with concealed faces almost stealthily walking in silence_ are _suspicious._ Hermione nods at her before she tries to explain _._

“Han is...family and one of the best friends that I could have asked for.  He used to live down our street, and well, believe me when I say his family life was _far_ from ideal.  When he was about a year old my parents saw...”  She cleares her throat, her voice raw with emotions.  “After that my parents volunteered to take care of him during the day, since their practice was at our house.  His mother of course agreed, she wanted him away from his father, and this way Han had a safe place to stay.  So he practically became my parent’s son.  They took care of him, loved him.  Then two years later when I was born...”  She smiles fondly at the many times recounted memory.  “…the first day he saw me, he stood up, walked to my parents and told them, that from that day on he is going to protect me, because that’s what a big brother does.”

 

She again turns to the right, they walk down a little alley, and climb over a fence at the end.

_What is it with Hermione and fences?!_ Of course Harry is wise enough not to voice his thoughts, instead after landing on the other side he asks her intrigued.  “What happened after that?”

 

“He kept his promise of course.  He taught me a lot of things, from how to drive a bike to how to pick a lock.  When somebody bullied me at school, he scared them away.  I was a strange kid, but I didn’t need anybody apart from him, he was my best friend.  Maybe that’s why I was so awkward at the beginning of our first year. I didn’t know how to approach people.”

 

She thoughtfully kicks a stone while hurrying down the narrow and dark road they were on, to the right of them were big brick buildings with lots of graffiti on them, to the left decaying, old wooden fence.

 

“Anyway when he was around seven his parents finally got divorced, and this was the time too when he began to hang out with an older crowd.  But he always came back to us, he never stopped being my brother, my friend.  He was at my house too when McGonagall told us that I'm a witch, that’s why he knows about the wizarding world in the first place.  He was hiding in the kitchen and eavesdropping while we talked in the living room.  Han was great about the news, he said no matter what I am, I’m always going to be his sis, and he is always going to be so proud of me.  He helped a lot my parents too, to accept that I am going to a boarding school.”

 

At the end of the road they cross the street and begin to walk in the direction of a station.

 

“Anyway, that was the time when he discovered his love for computers and programming.  He is really good at it, actually that is what he is studying at the university here.  When the situation got really dangerous in the wizarding world, I told him everything, even that I am targeted, and what I was planning to do to my parents.  He understood, and made me promise that I would contact him if he could help me somehow.”

 

“And this is the reason why I am here.  Last summer I set my safe up here because of him, I knew I could turn to him if everything went wrong.  I came back here after the battle because...“ Here her voice cracks, she is silent for a while, as if contemplating what to tell.  Then she settles for.  “I needed time away from the wizarding world.  And he is the only family left that I have.  I didn’t have to obliviate him and send him away, because none of my records in the wizarding world mentions him, since we are not related by blood.”

 

She walks up to the back entrance of the station, looks around, then hastily whispers.  “And now he is helping us, he has skills, connections, and is way less scrupulous to put it mildly when it comes to terms of doing something for me, or my safety.  Han is about to get us fake passports and a few other things that he deems necessarily...”

 

Harry is positively gaping at her.  He had never thought that his ears ever would become witness to such a sentence leaving Hermione’s mouth.  Is this really ‘or-worse-we-could-get-expelled-Hermione talking about breaking _laws_ in such a manner?  Luna on the other hand seems completely unfazed, she just continues to occasionally hum quietly while eagerly watching the street.

 

Hermione turns once again to the door.

              
“Don’t worry, this is just a small bus station for nearby regional destinations, and I have already checked there is no magic around this place.” 

  
With that she swiftly opens the metal and glass entrance and confidently walks in, to the safes on the wall furthest away from the doors.  She moves her right hand, her wand hidden in her jumper’s arm and removes her wards from the last safe on the row.  She pulls out a small key from her jean and opens the door, she calmly takes out a small black leather bag, pocketing it after checking if she left anything behind.

 

Hermione stands up, nods at her friends, and the trio casually strides out.  She leads her friends in another direction that they came from.  They don’t talk until they are sure no one is following them and the station is far behind.  After taking several turns they arrive in a peaceful avenue, the shadows of trees and old townhouses seemingly calm the friends enough to relax their posture a bit.

 

“Tomorrow we are going to plan our disguises, where and how we are exactly going, and buy everything we are going to need.  After that we just have to wait for Han to work his magic.  We are going to rest as much as we can till then, because I am sure we are going to need it.”  Hermione turns to Luna.  “Maybe you could tell me more about Selach and anything possible that comes to your mind in connection to him and the situation.  Oh, and would you please teach me how you did that modified Patronus Charm?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes good heartedly, he is actually wondering how his best friend could wait this long without asking.  He turns his attention back to the area that surrounds them.

 

“Of course Hermione!” Luna says enthusiastically.  “If you want to cast it that way then you need more than just one happy memory.  You need a chain of them but really powerful ones.  You need to feel the kind of happiness that makes your skin tingle, to cover your whole body in this feeling _then_ you can release your magic.  You have to actually decide to release it, not just letting the happy memory trigger your power.  And in this moment when you decided you open yourself, use your magic to call your patronus _in_ you, all that is left to do is to think of the person you want to be with, or your destination.  It’s a complex bit of magic, but has several advantages compared to apparition.  It’s undetectable, less nauseating, quieter, you can go to persons too and you can’t splinch yourself.”  Luna skips a few times, talking about rare or brand new forms of magic obviously made her excited.  Hermione muses over everything that the bubbly witch just said.    
They reach a smaller street, and both witches slow down simultaneously.    
Harry follows their lead shortly afterwards.

 

 _Something isn't right._ Hermione thinks uneasily _._ She looks up, her eyes scanning the area for any kind of danger.  She draws her wand, bends her knees slightly and puts her feet wider apart, stepping a few paces away from her friends.  She can see from the corner of her eyes they do the same.

 

Ancient trees, old townhouses, starry sky, a cat that lazily crosses the street...seemingly nothing out of order...yet her senses are on high alert.  She bends forward and slowly begins to walk towards the end of the street.  The closer she gets the stronger the sensation grows. 

It’s definitely from magical origin...but so _strange_ , she has never felt something like this before, it’s like a... _mixture...of broken magical signatures_?

 

_That, that’s...that simply can not be!_

  
Hermione is frightened by this possibility, yet in a morbid way her curiosity is peaked too.  She is afraid of what she might discover, but on the other hand she just can’t turn and run away, she has to get to the bottom of this.  Her mind is on overdrive, but she needs to calm down somehow, to think clearly.  Anything could happen in the next few minutes.  So she does what always helps her in situations like this.  Reciting facts.

 

 _Magical signature.  The unique characteristic of one’s magic.  There aren't two identical ones, each and every one is extraordinary, typical for only that witch or wizard.  Everybody can sense magic, but only just a few skilled witches and wizards are able to sense the_ differences _in magic.  Sense that uniqueness.  But how they sense it, perceive it, differs as well from person to person._

They are nearing the end of the street, from left behind her she hears Harry’s slightly laboured breaths, in stressful situations he always inhales fast and shallow.  From her right, closer to her she hears Luna’s soft steps, and she practically can feel the energy radiating from her.  They pass by an old plane tree, Hermione touches it, pauses and peers from behind it.  She still can’t see anything apart from parking cars, a few more trees and silent houses.  There is no movement, nothing!  But she knows something _is_ ahead of them, a few paces away behind the only oak in the street, where the road becomes more spacious with only a playground and no house on the right side.  She feels that something is there.  So she keeps on going.

 

 _I know Harry can't feel magical signatures, he most likely just realized the change in our behaviour.  Luna on the other hand..._ She takes one step with her right foot. _S_ _he can_ see _magical signatures, their_ colours _, so different from what I do, yet it is so Luna._

Left foot, bending the knees more.

              
Hermione concentrates even more on the signatures.  Her way of detecting them is rather strange, it’s like her magic associates pictures with other’s magical signatures and how powerful they are.

  
She steps once more, reaches a dark red car parked on the side of the road, and inhales deeply.

 

_A sea, deep, dark, cold but...calm, powerful and....beautiful.  But the other...it’s...shattered.  Pieces of colourful broken glass lie everywhere on the ground...red, green, blue, purple, every possible colour.  Hermione has never seen something like this.  This magical signature is extremely powerful even in its ruins.  It must have been breathtaking..._

_WAIT! What? The other?!_

She gasps and ducks behind the car pulling her friends with her.

              
“There are two of them.”  She whispers.  “Let’s wait, and don’t use magic unless it’s necessary!  ‘Sea’ is very powerful, I think she is a witch, but the other person, ‘Splinter’, well their signature is broken!  And frankly that frightens me.”

              
Harry looks disbelievingly at her.  “Hermione, you just pulled a Luna on me!  Nevermind, you can explain it later.  Can you hear this too?”  He nods in the direction of the oak, there from seemingly out of thin air a voice can be heard.  They aren’t clear, the three friends can’t understand what they are talking about, and the conversation seems rather one-sided, but they can tell that there really must be two people.           
“I think they know that we are here.”  Luna whispers in her usual airy voice, there isn’t any sign of distress in her, unlike in the two Gryffindors, somewhat belying their house, on both sides of her.

 

Hermione opens her mouth to ask what they should do now, but before she can voice anything, many popping sounds tear the silence of the summer night apart.  Several people just apparated in the street right ahead of them, to the other side of the street, in front of the playground.  Hermione hears Harry breathing out a “Fuck.” and she feels both of her friends stiffen with tension.

 

She looks closely at the newly appeared crowd.  Witches and wizards, around twenty of them begin slowly walking in every direction.  They all have similar clothing on, when one of them steps in the direct light of a street lamp, she gasps.  There was no mistaking the distinct azure and silvery blue colour of the Swedish Short – Snout dragon hide jacket that he is wearing.

 

_So they are the Blue Jackets._

“I can’t believe this.”  A man with an annoyingly arrogant and nasal voice grumbles.  “She clearly isn’t here.  I think the boss is just guessing, let’s check the next location!  If she had apparated here, she would have triggered the wards, and she can’t possibly travel these long distances without magic this fast!”

 

Several of his mates agree when a twig under the oak breaks.

              
Everybody turns in that direction and stops every movement.  Hermione holds her breath.  Suddenly three of the Blue Jackets drop dead or unconscious to the ground and a witch in a long travelling cloak appears.  She stands about two meters in front of the tree.  Her legs apart, in a classical yet graceful attacking pose.  Her face is hidden behind her hood, she casts an unusually strong shield charm.  Her left hand is in the air, her palm turned to the direction of her shield, as if she is constantly strengthening it, so it doesn’t vanish, no matter how many curses hit it.  Her right, her wand arm is constantly moving at a remarkable speed.  She easily casts verbal and non-verbal spells, even creates spell chains, she obviously is an extremely talented duellist.  The witch takes out five more of Selach’s soldiers but the surprise of her attack is gone, and no matter how powerful she is, alone against around fifteen Blue Jackets it's still a suicide.

 

The flying hexes and jinxes light up the night.  The bizarre and deathly rainbow of flashes becomes even thicker as the fight intensifies.  The air is practically cracking under the raw magic.  Hermione watches the witch closely.  She obviously knows the Dark Arts too, since she is using spells Hermione had never heard of.  But something isn’t right...

 

_Her shield is bigger than she needs, and she isn’t moving.  A witch of her skill would use her feet, she would dodge as much as use a shield.  I’m sure normally she would gracefully but constantly move in the middle of a fight, almost like she were dancing.  But why is she using raw magic to block all the hexes?  It doesn't make sense, unless...  She is protecting someone, a person who is still at the tree behind her.  That must be Splinter._

While Hermione is thinking she watches the witch.  She took out two more, judging by the amount of blood loss on the pavement, they both are dead.  The witch is skilled and powerful but it’s clear that she isn’t going to win.  The fight began about two minutes ago, she is getting tired and there are still over a dozen Blue Jackets left.  And they could summon reinforcement any minute.

 

_She is skilled and an enemy of Selach._

With this thought Hermione hastily casts an Anti-Disapparition Jinx in a 2km radius around their area and motions her friends to join the fight.  Hermione sees the witch’s shield waving just a bit and a slicing hex getting through, and tearing up her left upper arm, she hisses in pain but never stops casting spells.         

              
Hermione aims in front of the witch and shouts.  “Protego!”  And she runs to the witch, she ducks or steps away from the hexes and jinx thrown in her direction.  From the corner of her eye she can see her two friends using Reducto or Sectumsepra, obviously not wanting to leave any witnesses.

 

_So much has changed._

She stops next to the witch, makes her shield wider, so she is protected too.  Hermione turns her face to the enemy.  With Harry and Luna taking out three there are still at least ten left.  The witch to her left is getting more tired.

 

_She could drop unconscious to the ground any moment.  And the more time we are wasting the higher the chances that more Blue Jackets will arrive._

The mystery witch next to her stumbles, but then it’s like somebody caught her and is holding her from behind.  She stands up to her full height again, looks at Hermione.  She drops the remains of her shield, she obviously decided that Hermione’s is strong enough.  Her spells grow more powerful.  She aims and slices the throat of a man.  Harry and Luna also manage to catch two soldiers.

 

_We have to hurry up.  Nine are still alive._

Hermione has an idea, she has never done something like this before, but now they are obviously in too much danger to think about the consequences of such a spell.  She concentrates and begins the incantation, muttering the words, making the correct wand movements.  Suddenly seven soldiers simultaneously scream in agony, they drop to the ground, still screaming, legs and arms twitching, some of them are frantically scratching every part of their skin that they can reach.

 

The sight is so bone chilling that the remaining two soldiers, Harry, Luna and even the stranger next to her are just staring at her victims.

 

A few more words and she finishes the spell.

              
The bodies stopped moving.  There are gashes on them, covering their whole body.  As if several blades sliced them up from the _inside_ , but there is no blood gathering around the death bodies.

 

Everybody is staring at the bodies then at her.

              
“Incarcarus.”  The two remaining Blue Jackets fall to the ground, desperately trying to tug on their invisible ropes to get away.

  
“What would have been the next location you needed to check?”  Hermione steps closer to the two men.  One of them is a tall red haired, board shouldered wizard, he presses his lips together and looks away from Hermione.  The other a skinny brown haired one looks at his mate and copies his actions, although he is obviously trembling from fear.  Hermione sighs and lifts her wand.

  
“Wait!  DON’T!  It’s Cardiff.”  The brown haired wizard practically shouts at her.

              
“Hmm... and after that?” Hermione asks.

              
“A small wizarding village not far from Aberdeen.”

 

“Thank you.”  With that she obliviates both wizards and plants false memories about how they were attacked by more than 12 wizards near Aberdeen, and the idea of bringing back their fallen mates with them.  She steps back, lifts her Anti-Disapparition Charm and watches how the two apparate away bringing the bodies with them.

 

Luna quickly scorgufies the area and repairs any damage.  Then she turns back to Hermione and Harry.  The former is thoughtfully watching the strange witch, and Harry is still gaping at Hermione.  Until finally he gathers his wits. 

 

“What did you do to them?”

 

His tone isn’t judging, but curious.  Yet he sounds tired and resigned.  Neither of them chose to kill, they were forced in a ‘either them or us’ situation, without the hope that there is going to be an ‘after’ the war where they could continue their lives in peace.  They had this hope during the war, but not anymore, even that was robbed from them.  They are forced to do more desperate and drastic acts this time around, and they all know this.

 

“That I would like to hear too, I have never seen something like that.”  All three friends turn to the witch with the familiar voice.

  
“Narcissa Malfoy.”  Hermione’s voice breaks a little when she utters those words.  She shuts her eyes trying to will the haunting memories of Malfoy Manor to go away.  She takes a shaky breath, opens her eyes and watches as the woman pulls her hood back, revealing her blond locks and piercing eyes.

 

“Good evening Ms Granger, Mr. Potter and Ms. Lovegood.”  Narcissa politely nods at all of them. Harry looks like he is contemplating if he should hex her or not, but in the end he decides against it.  He owes her his life after all.  He nods back at her in greeting.  Luna waves absolutely nonchalantly, like she and Narcissa were regularly attending the same tea parties.  Hermione merely sighs.  “I transfigured their blood, or more precisely I crystallised it, and this tore them apart, literally.”  She says while looking in Narcissa’s eyes.  Their blueness from up this close is really shocking.

 

 _Sea...so fitting._ Hermione idly thinks _._

She hears Harry muttering a slightly fearful “Bloody brilliant” but her eyes never leave Narcissa’s face.

 

_Her husband is dead, she is obviously wanted and hiding, helping someone.  She was ready to die for this person...  She is a powerful witch and I assume she still has connections, so she must be influential too._

Hermione puts her hand in her pocket, pulls her black messenger bag out that she got from her safe just half an hour ago, enlarges it, rummages a bit in it till she draws out a potion.

 

“Mrs. Malfoy, I know we were enemies a few months ago, and you watched me being tortured in your home.”  Here Narcissa’s expressionless mask falters a bit.  ”And most likely you still despise me, but I think we should try to cooperate.  You are in the same position as my friends and I.  We both need allies, in this situation we can not afford to work alone.  I would like to discuss our plans for the future and hear yours in a secure place.  That is of course if you are willing to get past our differences.  Also may I call you Ms. Black, I have never been found of your husband.”

 

Harry hearing Hermione’s speech has gone pale, but the more he thinks about where his best friend is coming from and everything else that she said about how their only chance to collapse Selach’s system is with more allies, well he might not be happy with her friend’s decision, but he definitely can see the logic behind it.

 

Luna just intently looks at a point behind Narcissa, over her shoulder that seemingly nobody sees but her.  She is concentrating and appears as if she wasn’t paying any attention to the exchange next to her.

 

Narcissa lets her mask slip away for the first time while she is looking at Hermione.  Hermione can see how tired she is, her eyes mirror so much worry and a hint of fear, but it is different from that frantic one she expressed for Draco during the war.

 

_So it isn't her son with her._

Narcissa looks over her shoulder then back to Hermione, the fear in her eyes even more evident.

 

_I see._

“Trust me Ms. Black, I’m not going to judge you or the person behind you whose magical signature is shattered.  We all have persons whom we are protective of.  Whoever they are behind you, with this grade of destruction to their magical core, I’m positive they can’t do magic any more, however powerful they were.  I won’t hurt a defenceless person in any way, if they don’t pose a threat.  And whatever they might have done in the past, I’m going to try to leave it there.  We are all thrown _together_ in this madness, you Harry, Luna, me and even your companion.  We are going to need each other if we want to survive not to mention if we want to do anything against Selach.”

 

She offers her hand to Narcissa, who hesitantly takes it.

 

“You truly are a remarkable witch, Ms. Granger.  Let’s have a new beginning if we can.  I’m Narcissa Black.  And this...,” she reaches behind her, puts her hand on somebody’s upper arm, gently directs them to stand next to her rather than behind her, with her other hand she removes an Invisibility Cloak, “is my sister Bellatrix Black.”

 

Luna touches Harry’s wand arm and holds him tightly, when he begins to lift his wand to attack. She shakes her head when he looks questioningly and angrily at her.  His face betrays all his emotions.  Luna just nods Hermione’s way.  Harry lifts his eyes and watches his friend closely.

 

Hermione had never thought that she was going to be face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange ever again.  Yet, here she stands in front of her a walking nightmare.  Hermione has gone terribly pale, she is trembling and takes two steps backwards.

 

“Wha... How? I- I...”

              
She is terrified, the memories won’t stop, all the sensations, _that_ curse, the blade marring her flesh, her own screams ringing in her ears, _her_ voice taunting her, her mad cackles, her haunting eyes...  It’s too much, too sudden and she doesn’t understand anything...  She wants to run away...

 

Suddenly somebody is touching her, she screams and hits the hands away.  Another pair of hands, stronger ones, embrace her from behind, she is screaming, she is terrified her only thought ‘flee, run, run away’ is like a constant mantra in her ears.  She kicks out, she is thrashing her body, she does anything she can, but the arms never release her.  She is trapped...trapped, trapped.  She feels gentler hands holding her cheeks firmly, turning her head she doesn’t see, she shut her eyes to flee in the darkness, to not see...  A voice is whispering something to her, she doesn’t understand what.  She is tired and unwilling, she just want this to be over with...  The same voice begins to hum then sing softly to her.    
The same song Luna was humming the whole night.

 

 _Luna._ She stops thrashing and for the first time she feels that a man the same height as her is holding her, not hurting her just holding her.  _Harry._ She understands the song more now, it’s a lullaby.  Her friend, Luna truly has a lovely voice.

 

_Luna._

She opens her eyes, looks at the witch in wonder then whispers. “Luna.”

 

Luna smiles at her.  “Hello Hermione Granger.  Did you see that the fire lilies are exceptionally bright tonight?  Even their scent is stronger than usual.”

 

Hermione stares into her eyes, they have a knowing look, a hint of sadness and so much _belief_ in them.

 

_She thinks, no believes that I can get past this.  Oh, Luna._

At this thought she begins to cry silently and opens her arms to envelop Luna in a hug.  She hugs her back tightly and Hermione feels Harry step away.  She inhales her friend’s floral scent and whispers a quiet “thank you” in her ear.  She draws back, brushes her tears way, looks at Harry and holds his hand tightly, smiling at him.  He returns the gesture, he understands it.

 

Hermione steps forward, clears her throat and lifts her eyes to see Narcissa’s face.  She is quite dumbfounded to see the witch teary eyed with so much sorrow on her beautiful face.  She looks at the ex-Death Eater and she is even more stunned.  Bellatrix’s usually pale cheeks are red, she is looking at the ground and chewing on her bottom lip.

 

_Is she...ashamed? What on earth is going on here?_

Hermione notices that Narcissa changed her position, she stepped to the side as if she wanted to shield her sister.

 

_She is worried that I am going to attack her._

Hermione clears her throat once again.

              
“Ms. Black...” She has no idea how to continue. She doesn’t want to apologise, because the state she is in, that she must fight seemingly against her own mind isn’t her own fault. She knows this isn’t going to be her last episode, and she is ashamed that her friends and strangers who hate her had to witness this. So she shuffles her weight from one leg to the other, while her uncertain half sentence hangs in the air. Until Bellatrix suddenly looks up and stares into Hermione’s eyes.

 

_Her eyes!  Sweet heavens!  Her eyes._

  
Hermione remembers them how they were in the Manor.  Cold, cruel, tinted with feverish madness.  But now?  They are deep dark brown as ever, but only intelligence, so much sorrow, a hint of fear and a bit of... _was that shyness? ..._ are left.

 

She looks at Bellatrix in wonder.  _Shyness and sorrow?!  What the hell happened to her?  And how did she survive the Battle?  How was her magical core shattered?  Can she truly not do magic anymore?  I know for fact that something like this can't be caused by a simple Reducto._ She thoughtfully watches Bellatrix a bit more, until she comes to the only conclusion: _Bellatrix Lestrange the Death Eater is truly gone..._

She offers her hand reluctantly to Bellatrix.  “Hermione Granger, I believe we have never met before Ms. Black.”

  
Bellatrix exhales slowly, wonderment clearly written on her face, she meets Hermione’s eyes and shakes her hand.

 

The moment their skin touches, Hermione can hear a sentence in her head.    
' _You are right, you have never met Bellatrix Black before, just Lestrange.'_

And she can clearly see that Bellatrix’s lips didn’t move at all.

They hastily drop each other’s hands, Bellatrix tries to say something, but no sound leaves her. And when she sees the three young adults gaping at her, she immediately quits trying, blushes hard and inches close to her sister, as if she wanted to hide behind her.

Hermione turns her head to Narcissa in her astonishment, Bellatrix’ soft whispering voice still ringing in her mind.  “How...?  Is she...?  Is this for real...?”

              
Narcissa inhales shakily, steps to the side a bit away from Bellatrix, she has obviously decided that Hermione isn’t a threat.  She smiles sadly at her then begins to explain.  “I don’t know how it happened...I believe after the final Battle she was one of the first persons who were captured by Selach.  I don’t know what they did to Bella, but whatever it was, it shattered her magical core as you, I assume, have sensed already, and with that...yes, she lost her ability to speak.”  She sighs, rubs her forehead, glances at her sister then back at Hermione.  “To be frank, I’m not sure how something like this could have happened.  I have never heard of someone’s magical core being damaged, not to mention shattered.  I tried to research this topic but after Selach gained power, I had limited possibilities, to use an ugly understatement.”

 

Narcissa smiles bitterly at Hermione, takes her sister’s hand and rubs the back of it reassuringly.  Bella’s expression is pained, her gaze is again directed at the ground.  The trio is too shell shocked to even move.

 

Hermione notices that she is still holding the potion in her left hand.  She opens her mouth to say something, but after news like this, well nothing comes out.  She clears her throat and tries again.

 

“M-Ms. Black, hmm, please may I heal your arm?  And are either of you hurt anywhere else?  I saw that slicing hex but nothing more...”

 

Narcissa touches her sister’s forearm, Bella lifts and shakes her head then looks over at Hermione, her gaze following her every move.  Narcissa also turns back to her and begins to take her cloak off.

  
“Wait, I’m going to remove the clothing from the area so we don’t make your injury worse.”

At Narcissa’s nod she banishes the fabric, disinfects the area, runs a basic diagnostic spell, when she is positive that it’s a simple slice, she murmurs Episkey and watches as the skin grows back.

 

“Here drink this, it is a Blood-Replenishing Potion.”  Narcissa downs it without hesitating.

 

“Thank you Ms. Granger.”

 

“You are welcome Ms. Black.  However, we should get a move on and preferably fast.  Do you have anywhere safe to go?  And how exactly did you get here?”

 

“I created an unregistered floo access at our last safe house, and well, the first unregistered fireplace happened to be in this house behind me.  And to answer your question, no we don’t have another safe place.  We were deciding where to go when you arrived on this street and after that...” She trails off.

 

“I see.  You can come with us.  We have many things to discuss anyway, so if you are not too scandalised you could stay with us.”  Hermione looks at Bellatrix briefly.  “Both of you.  But please decide fast.”

 

She steps away and whispers her friends.  “Thank you again.”

              
“Don’t mention it!  So...you really are serious about this ally thing?” Harry looks uncertainly at Hermione.

              
“Yes Harry, I am, but first we have to know what their plans are.  However, I truly believe that we could help each other.”

  
“I’m with Hermione on this one Harry.  And if she is willing to fight her demons so we might have better chances to survive or fight this situation, then I am going to do the same.  Besides look at Bellatrix...” Luna trails off meaningfully.

  
“Alright, I see your point, but it really is going to take some time to get used to the idea...” Harry grumbles.        
“Don’t fret, like I said, we don’t even know what they want...” Hermione tries to appear reassured and utterly fails at it.

 

“Ms. Granger?  Sorry to interrupt you but we would like to take up on your offer.”

              
Hermione nods then turns to Luna.  “Can you bring us all to Han’s?  And before I forget, could we activate the wards with this method or...?”

              
“No, we can arrive in the house, especially now that I have seen it, and the wards won’t be a problem since you, the secret keeper is with us.”

 

“All right, then let’s do this.” _Mending fences, eh? I just hope we are not going to regret this bitterly._ Hermione thinks glumly.

  
Harry takes Luna’s left hand, Hermione puts her arm on Luna’s shoulders, so Luna can move her wand arm freely. She then looks at the sisters and sees the mistrust on Narcissa’s and the interest on Bellatrix’ face.  “I am going to explain later, but for now, please believe us, we are not going to apparate, but you are going to have to hold on to us.”   She offers her hand to Narcissa, who takes it, and with her right arm pulls her sister closer to her, almost embracing her.

 

“Luna, is...?” Hermione uncertainly trails off as she looks at Bellatrix. But luckily Luna understands her, before either of them could land themselves in an even more uncomfortable situation.

  
“Yes, she still has magic in her, her body is going to react to our magic, she can do this.”          

  
“If you say so...”

              
Luna doesn’t even answer her noisy friend, just closes her eyes, recalling the memories then whispers “Expecto Patronum”, with a smile on her face.

 

This way of travel is a strange experience for Hermione to say the least.  She just closed her eyes, dreading what was about to happen, and the next thing she knows Luna’s magic and with it, her happiness engulf her, leaving a relaxed, happy sensation that makes her smile.  She opens her eyes and they are already standing in Han’s house.

 

“Fascinating...Luna you are truly brilliant!”  Hermione nearly squeals in her overexcited state.    
“That indeed was an impressive piece of magic Ms. Lovegood!”  Even Narcissa smiles at her.

  
Harry is still lost in dreamland with a smile on his face.

 

Hermione just shakes her head at him then looks at Bellatrix.

              
She has already wandered away and is discovering the room.  Some of the muggle machines are clearly confusing her, but she looks at them with interest.

 

_No trace of disgust...I wonder what she is thinking?  How is she coping with a situation like this?  Especially with her background, not being able to do magic any more..._

When Bellatrix discovers the book shelves at the wall, she immediately begins to scan the spines of the books, Hermione notices the delight that crosses her face.  She is beyond stunned by this stranger that is now apparently Bellatrix Black.  Bellatrix selects a book, turns, then her eyes land on a sheet of paper and a pen at the coffee table to her right, she picks them up too and walks back to the group.

Hermione sees that everyone is looking at her.

              
“Right.  So this is my brother’s house...”  Here she looks at the sisters.  “Who is muggle and I won’t tolerate either one of you insulting or hurting him in any kind of way.  You are guests in this house but if you disrespect him, I am going to throw you out, even if Selach himself is camping in the front garden! Do we understand each other?” She looks defiantly at the Blacks, her stance serious and fierce.

 

“Ms. Granger, we shook hands, I accepted your offer of co-operation, we made a truce.  I am not going to betray that.” Narcissa states with all the calm of the world.  “As you so clearly pointed out, we do need each other.  I am a Slytherin true, but the world has changed.  Taking care of my family, self-preservation and my interest come before any kind of foolish ideology that would only mean hindrance and disadvantage.  Besides, how could I believe in something like that anymore?”  Here her eyes linger on Bellatrix then she looks back at Hermione.  Her message is clear and honest.

 

Bellatrix frantically writes something on her paper then gives it to Hermione.  She takes it wearily, she is beyond uncomfortable to be this near to Bellatrix. She would love to run in the opposite direction and avoid this woman for the rest of her life. But she steels her nerves and looks down to read the messy scrawl.

 

_I practically am a muggle myself now.  That is the only thing that I know for sure about me, my lack of magical abilities.  I wasn't born this way, so I am not a squib, the only category left is muggle.  If I begin to derogate them now, and make myself somehow superior to them, what is left?  What am I going to be then?_

Hermione gapes at Bellatrix.  She is so astonished, she has no idea how she should react.  She stares into her dark brown eyes.  They are filled with sadness, intelligence and _determination_?

 

_Yes, she is hell bent on finding a way to cope with this.  This situation surely makes my mind spin and it's a lot to think about._

She passes the paper to Luna, so her friends can read it too.

 

“Very well.  Let’s go to the kitchen, have something to drink or eat, so we can discuss what we are going to do tomorrow.  This way please.”  She points at an open door.  “I’m going to be right back, just need to tell my brother that we have guests.”

 

She doesn’t wait for an answer, she runs up the stairs and walks to Han’s room.  She takes a moment to just breathe in and enjoy the safety his brother’s presence causes.  But after tonight’s surprises this doesn’t seem to be enough, so she walks up to him, bends down, kisses his temple and hugs him from behind, seeking comfort.  Han turns around in his chair, smiles at her and when he sees just how distraught she looks, he stands up and wordlessly embraces her tightly.

 

“Well, we are back.”  Hermione mumbles in his shoulder rather redundantly.  

 

“Did you run into trouble?”  Han comes to the obvious conclusion, given how his sister behaves.

 

“Sort of.”  Hermione huffs but doesn’t elaborate.  “We also met two other people who might come with us abroad.”  As she says this, she can’t hide the unease on her face.  Han sees on the tightening of her jaws that she can’t talk about what is bothering her this much, at least not yet.    
“Could you please...?”  She whispers, and motions with her head towards his desk where Harry’s future passport can be seen on his laptop’s display.

  
“Of course, no problem there.”  He reassures her with a sincere smile.  “I assume they are acquaintances of yours?” 

 

“Well.  You could say that.”  Hermione mutters with a grimace.  She adds: “They are women in their forties, I believe?  They both are Brits.  Even if it is beyond strange to think of them in these terms.”  She trails off uncertainly.

 

Han embraces her again and kisses the crown of her hair.  “Don’t worry Mia, it’s going to be alright.  And if not, you do know you are on your way there.  Something will always turn up.” 

Hermione finds her brother’s unwavering belief in an achievable, better future on her brighter days endearing, on her average, more morose ones bothersome.  It’s just so obvious that Hannibal has never had to face systematic, institutionalised oppression.  There are simply some problems that are bigger than an individual, and no matter what a person does, they still might always end up exploited, at a disadvantage.  
On the other hand, he did experience cruelty, up close, on a personal scale.  And Hermione never ceases to admire the compassionate young man he turned out to be, despite everything.  And truth be told, she is not a person to pass up an opportunity to educate anyone about their ignorance.  Especially her brother.  She is just more patient with him.

 

“I love you, Hermione.  And I believe in you.”  And her heart melts.  This means more for her than anything he could have said, no matter how often he says it.    
Hermione clings to Han more tightly for a long moment, and feels how his quite calmness, and warm words finally help her find her balance.

 

“Love you too.” She whispers gratefully.    
With a deep sigh and a small smile she steps back from him.

 

Han turns back to his computer with a content hum and a wink at Hermione, he begins to type.             
“Alright then.” Hermione says.  “We are planning in the kitchen, if you happen to come downstairs, please put some clothes on, don’t parade in your boxers.”  She playfully ads, just to tease him, not because he lacks basic manners.

  
“Just when I thought you were not getting bossier...”  He grumbles good-naturedly.

              
“Bye Han.”  She grins at him.

 

She goes back to the kitchen, everybody is sitting at the table chatting, apart from Bellatrix, who is looking around, occasionally touching objects that she finds particularly interesting.

 

“Ms. Black?”

  
Both sisters look up at her.

              
“Ugh, this is confusing.  May I please call you Narcissa and Bellatrix?  After all, we might end up on the run together.”  She trails off uncertainly.

  
“Alright... Hermione.”  Narcissa agrees easily.  Bellatrix nods her permission rather carelessly, without stopping her wary observation of the coffee maker.

              
“Bellatrix, please take a seat.  If you want, I could explain what the machines or anything else is tomorrow.”

 

Bellatrix abruptly turns around and stares disbelievingly at Hermione for a long moment.  She takes her slip of paper from Luna back, and hastily writes down:

 

 _You would really do that? After...  
_ Bellatrix pauses uncertainly, right hand hoovering over the paper, she has obviously no idea how to finish that sentence delicately.  She begins to scratch the side of her pen and bites her lower lip.  Her gaze is firmly pointed at the paper in front of her.

Hermione takes her time to really look at Bellatrix.      

  
_The only way she has known this world, her identity, her anchor to reality, as twisted and deranged as hers had been, and her magic was robbed from her.  And yet here she is, willing to begin from nothing, searching for understanding, searching for herself...  She didn't fall into despair, she somehow escaped, searched for her sister...  She has left everything behind for a new chance, this might be her only chance at life, and she is ready to accept that she might have to live it as a muggle._

With this, Hermione comes to a decision.  She just dearly hopes, she won’t regret it.

“Yes, I am going to help you Bellatrix Black.”    
At this Bellatrix looks up at her abruptly.  Hermione make eye contact with her purposefully, willing her to believe that she meant everything she said.

 

Hermione nods at her in a silent promise then she walks to the fridge, takes several bottles of orange juice out, sets them on the table along with glasses and some biscuits.  She snatches one to herself when she sees how _enthusiastic_ Harry is about this type of sweets.  She is munching on it when she looks up at her table companions.  Harry is already quietly hiccupping because he ate the biscuits too fast, Luna breaks three biscuits into even halves then she makes a neat stack of them, meticulously eating always the top one.  Bellatrix is absent-mindedly reading the words on the juice bottle.  Narcissa is sipping from her glass as graceful as ever.  Hermione rolls her eyes at her friends, and she stifles a chuckle.  They have serious topics to discuss after all.

 

“Narcissa, what were you two planning?”  Hermione asks at last.

 

“We wanted to go to France.”  When Narcissa sees the questioning looks, she explains.  “I sent Draco there immediately after the Battle, before the political situation changed, or even before there were any signs that a dictatorship was impending upon us.  I wanted him to be finally safe, after everything he was dragged into because of his darling of a father.”  Her tone concealing none of the hatred and anger she feels for Lucius.  “After I was sure that my son was safe, I began to search for my sister.”  Before she can say anything else, Luna interrupts.

 

“I meant to ask it earlier, but how are you here Bellatrix Black?  Didn’t Molly Weasley kill you at the final battle?”  Luna asks as oddly as ever.

 

Bellatrix just rolls her eyes and makes a dismissing hand gesture.  Her message is clear without any words:  _Please, as if she could have defeated me!_

She nods at her sister, urging her to explain.

 

“Oh yes, that I believe is actually my fault.  After Harry...”  Here Narcissa smiles at him gratefully and makes him blush furiously.   “...told me in the forest that my son was alive.  I was so relieved, and frankly so fed up with that nonsense of blood supremacy that almost cost me my child _and_ my two sisters, that I decided I was going to try to save Bella.  Because after over twenty years of no ties to Andy, well however how forgiving she might have been, that ship has sadly sailed away long ago.  So I wanted my eldest sister back, the one I knew before Voldemort and his ideology came into our world.  I decided, I was going to ensure that she wasn’t taking part at the end of the Battle, that she survives it without getting captured.  I wanted to lock her away and have a...what do the muggles call it?  ‘A major sisterly smack down’, and beat some sense into her, verbally of course.”

 

At this revealing Luna smiles at Narcissa, Harry almost chokes on his biscuits and Hermione just stares at Bellatrix.  Who is laughing whole-heartedly at her “baby” sister’s antics.  She is holding her stomach, head thrown back, a full toothy smile on her face, and with her left she is brushing tears away from her face.  But not one sound can be heard from her.  Not even her breathing.

 

 _It’s so surreal..._ Hermione thinks with a morbid fascination.

“Anyway,” Narcissa continues.  ”I pulled Bella away from the others, put her in body bind curse, took a piece of her hair, and hid her in the forest.  Well, she was _beyond_ furious, as you all can imagine.  Nevertheless, I wasn’t paying attention to what she was shouting at me, I only had her safety in mind, so I hurried back to the Death Eaters.  I _convinced_ the first snatcher to follow me, Imperio-ed him, made him drink the Polyjuice Potion, and made him act like Bella, but I forbid him to talk to anybody.  I am well aware that my plan wasn’t flawless, or even that original, but I had to act quickly and improvise a lot.”  Narcissa doesn’t even realise, how her always perfect mask of indifference slipped and her upper lip is pulled into the tiniest, self-conscious curl.

 

Hermione looks curiously at Narcissa for a long moment, then she whispers seemingly for herself:

“I have always wondered how a mere housewife, and by that I mean a person who lacks in experience of actual fighting, because she has other priorities, could ever defeat Voldemort’s greatest duellist, who by the way _lived_ for the fight.”  At Hermione’s unintended thinking aloud Bellatrix blushes and quickly downs her orange juice.

 

“What happened after that?”  Harry asks Narcissa.

 

“After the battle I went back to retrieve my sister and to go into hiding with her.  But she wasn’t there anymore.”  Her expression is pained, betraying her thoughts.  She clearly blames herself for what happened to Bellatrix.  “I sent my son away, but I stayed here hoping that I would find my sister.”

 

Everybody looks at Bellatrix to fill in the missing parts of the tale.    
She idly picks her pen up and writes:    
_I could undo her curse, but by that time the Battle had already ended, so I run away.  Shortly after that I got captured._

She puts her arms around herself and looks down, her posture indicating that she isn’t ready to say more.

 

“Narcissa, Bellatrix,” Hermione begins hesitantly, “we were planning to leave the country too.  I think we can help each other.  Tomorrow we are going to discuss the details, but now I believe each and every one of us had a long day, so I say let’s get some sleep.”

 

“Oh thank goodness, I thought you are never going to say that!”  Harry emphasises his words with a heartfelt yawn and hastily stands up, Luna following him on his heels.

“Lead the way Hermione.”  She offers over her shoulder.

 

Both of them are already waiting for Hermione, Narcissa and Bellatrix at the door.  Hermione looks back at the slightly amused sisters at this eagerness, they too stand up and follow Hermione upstairs.

 

“Bathroom is the last door to the left, in front of it is my brother’s room...” Hermione points at the next door.  “Harry you can sleep there, and Luna...”

              
“May I please sleep there too?  Ever since we went into hiding we have always shared a room, it would be strange not to do so now.”  Luna asks.

              
“Alright.” Hermione agrees.  “Then this room is yours Narcissa and Bellatrix, and my room is the last one on the right.  Don’t hesitate to come to me if there is a problem.”

 

After exchanging goodnights, Hermione brushes her teeth, hoping that monotone habits could somehow chase away the feeling of living at the mercy of these moments, the helplessness and the surreality of her situation.  She numbly walks back to her room, shreds her clothes, automatically puts her pair of boxers and a top on, but no amount of familiar habits could sooth the harshness of a gutted reality.

 

She plops down on her bed, on her face and stomach and moans at the absurdity that became her life in a day.

 

_A dictator is tearing wizarding Britain apart, I am the second most wanted criminal in the country, my friends and I along with Narcissa and Bellatrix Black are going to flee abroad together, I just murdered seven people and am not even having a moral, mental or emotional breakdown, I promised Bellatrix Black that I am going to help her discover and understand the muggle world.  Bellatrix Black who lost her magical abilities along with her madness, bigotry, and became somehow ... tolerable?  Yes.  Abso-fucking-lutely surreal.  And bizarre._


	4. Floors, Apples and Surprises

Hermione Granger is lying on the floor.  The last bit of her rational mind _knows_ that she is actually safe, that _this_ is _not_ real, or at least _not any more_.  But this rational part of her is fading and fast at that.  Each passing second that she is forced to spend here fuels her anxiety.  She is terrified because she knows what is going to happen.  She has already been here.  She wants to run, to leave this place once and for all.

                                                              
During the day she mostly manages, but the night steals all the willpower of her conscious mind and effortlessly breaks the dam that she carefully builds up every day.  The dam behind which _those_ memories are held.  The ones that she is forced to re-visit every night.

 

She knows what is going to happen and she is terrified out of her mind.

 

When she was a child and she was having a nightmare, she used to think that at one point of the events in her dream she just has to scream really loudly then everything would end.  She used to imagine that her dream-self would open her mouth, let out such a piercing ‘no’ or ‘stop it’ that this scream alone would have the power to slice through the fabric of her dream, ripping it apart and drag her back to reality.  So whenever her dreams got violent or extremely out of hand, her child-dream-self closed her eyes, pictured ripping silk in every colour imaginable, she even could hear the sound of dying fabric, then she would scream, and each and every time, the nightmare ended.  She could end it.

 

But not this time.  Now she is absolutely powerless, she can’t escape this time, she has already tried it, cried, screamed but nothing worked.  She is trapped in here and forced to re-live everything because this isn’t an actual nightmare but a string of painful memories.

 

Memories of _that_ night.

  
So now her dream-self is waiting for this to end on its own.  Just... the more her fear is increasing the more the difference between herself in her dream and her logical self that knows she is sleeping in reality, is vanishing.  She is slowly becoming one with herself in her dream, as all rational thoughts about this situation being a _mere_ dream are slowly slipping away.

 

The only thing she can do to somehow protect herself, is getting lost in details, if she can manage it.

 

Hermione is lying on the floor, her head is tilted to the side so she doesn’t have to look up.  She brushes the fingers of her left hand against the surface beneath her.  And tries to drown, to numb the agony in details.

  
_Floor – hardwood, cold, vine and geometric motifs curving around each other, cold,...two types of wood, one lighter one dark, pine and oak maybe.  
_ She is scratching the floor in a desperate attempt to search for more details.

 

_So cold..._

She feels _her_ moving, _she_ steps closer to her.  Out of the corner of her eyes she sees the tip of _her_ boots.

 

_NO!  No!  Please...I’m so cold, please don't...  She is going to do it...  Use it...  NO!_

_That_ curse.  Again.  Her whole body is suffering under it.  Hermione lost count how many times she has already aimed it at her.  Yet, this time it’s different.  She has never held it up this long.

 

_Almost as if she were preparing for something more._

Finally _it_ is lifted.

  
Hermione turns her head... and she feels like she is vomiting even her heart out... it comes back even through her nose.  Which, at _this_ point of her torture, she finds mildly curious.

              
_She_ is talking to her.  But Hermione doesn’t understand any more what _she_ is saying.  Nothing comes through the fog that seems to surround her, nothing but pain, bizarre details, the certainty of _her_ presence, and the certainty of her own mortality and just how close she is to the end.  Hermione knows _she_ is screaming at her, but she has no idea what.  She is too cold and too weak.  She can’t concentrate any more.  She is almost out.

 

 _She_ seems to notice this.

  
_She_ plops down on her, straddles her.

              
_Details.  Details._ She frantically thinks, but the fog is too thick to fight against it effectively.  _She is too close...  Black fabric, silk...  So cold._

  
_She_ grabs her chin, turns her head forces her to look at her. 

  
_Her eyes... black, cruel and... empty... look away._

              
Hermione drops her gaze, _her_ lips are moving, but she still doesn’t understand _her_.  She wonders if she ever will be able to do so again.  It’s pointless.  Her gaze wanders.  _Details.  Her face... avoid the eyes...  Fine scar through her right eyebrow.  Straight, proportioned nose.  Tattoo on the side of her neck.  The vein pulsing there._

              
Suddenly Hermione sees something flashing.

              
It’s in _her_ hands.  She directs her gaze at the object.  

  
_Long knife...blade narrow._ Hermione knows, once she could name it properly, she tries to concentrate on this detail.  _Dagger.  Yes, dagger...  Handle silver...a plant motif...at the end a blue stone..._ She watches with rapt attention as _she_ moves the dagger, _her_ fingers hold it with such a familiarity, that _her_ movements are almost graceful.  Hermione feels something warmer on her left elbow, she lifts her eyes to see what it is.  _She_ is holding her arm down.  _She_ barred it, her sickly pale, almost unrecognisable skin a stark contrast against the dark hardwood floor.  _She_ re-positions herself on her, _she_ is leaning to the side, holding her hand down with _her_ right underarm.                       
Hermione looks with morbid curiosity at her own skin, she knows _she_ is still talking, but it still doesn’t make sense to her.  Nothing does any more.  Maybe she is talking back, pleading with her, but Hermione really doesn’t know that either.  Her gaze isn’t wavering from her own arm.  Then she sees as _she_ brings the dagger closer, pushes it through her skin and begins to carve something.

  
Hermione sees it happening but it’s so bizarre, there is a point where she isn’t sure any more that that is her own arm.  But then the pain shatters the remaining fog around her mind...  _Now_ she knows she is screaming.  The picture, her vision blurs, she supposes that she is crying, nevertheless she is watching as _she_ is cutting something into her arm.  She sees the harshness of blood against her greyish skin, it is dropping down to the floor, she is so enthralled by that colour and the pain is so distracting that at first she doesn’t even realize that _she_ is writing something on her skin.  But then the burning sensation of each cut takes the shock of pain away, her mind is clear enough to see the first two letters.

 

_NO!  NO!  NO!  No.  She isn't..._

She screams at the horror, at the possibility of it.

              
This is the first time she blacks out in her dream...

 

…and she immediately wakes up in her bed.  She bolts up, her scream turns into a sob.  She hugs her knees to her chest.  This is the only time she lets her resolve down enough to cry her fears out.  Alone in the darkness of her own room, behind silencing charms so nobody can hear her vulnerability and just how damaged she truly is.

 

Except...

 

_She isn't alone now._

At this thought she jumps out of her bed, wand already in hand, knees bent in fighting position.  Before she even sees whom she is against, she incarcerates the person and takes their wand away...    
Or at least attempts to.    
But there is no wand...    
She strains her eyes to see the person in the dark room...

  
_It’s her._

              
In a blink of an eye Hermione stands in front of her, her wand under her chin, her left hand around her throat.  Hermione is panting, she can’t comprehend how Bellatrix Lestrange, who was just torturing her mere minutes ago ended up in her room.  She is shaking with fear, fury, adrenalin and is still fighting away the pictures of her recent nightmare, the memories of _that_ night.

  
_Memories..._

              
She looks around.

              
_I’m in my room..._

  
Hermione lifts her gaze at the witch in front of her.  Her eyes linger on her face.  Bellatrix’s eyes are closed, her head is turned to the left, yet Hermione can see that her cheeks are wet.  She isn’t fighting, not even attempting to defend herself, not that in her incarcerated state Bellatrix could do anything, but still, she could thrash around in a vain attempt to free herself, yet...  It’s like she _gave up_ and waits for whatever Hermione wants to do to her.

 

At this point Hermione’s memories about tonight begin to come back, and the heart chilling fear of her dream is slowly vanishing.  She remembers that this is Bellatrix Black in front of her, who is unable to do even the slightest magic, who is unable to speak.

 

“Look at me Bellatrix.”  Hermione whispers.  Her voice hoarse from screaming.  “Look at me.”  She lowers her wand, lifts the spell and her grip around the woman’s neck softens, but she doesn’t take her hand away, she is still holding her.

 

Bellatrix looks up with so much conflict and sorrow in her eyes that Hermione has to sharply inhale, her fingers involuntarily tightening around Bellatrix’s neck.

 

 _Truly, the most obvious way to determine that this person is Bellatrix Black and not Death Eater Lestrange, is just a simple glance in her eyes._ Hermione thinks somewhat dazedly.

But Bellatrix soon averts her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Hermione.       
“No!  Please, look at me,” Hermione whispers and grabs Bellatrix’ chin between her thumb and index finger.  “I have to see that you are not _her_ any more, that _that_ person doesn’t exist anymore.”

 

This time Bellatrix holds her gaze, never wavering.  Her eyes are still watery, but calm, displaying such a depth that Hermione has never seen in her dreams or at _that_ place.  She looks again in Bellatrix’s eyes, reassuring herself once again that she is safe then she inhales deeply, her posture relaxes a bit.

 

“What are you doing here Bellatrix?”  Hermione steps back, away from her, rubs her eyes tiredly.    
“I seriously could have hurt you.  I don’t react well if somebody sneaks up on me these days, especially if that person is you... I know you wouldn’t do _that_ , not anymore...”  Here she turns back to Bellatrix.  Seeing her in her own room still makes Hermione uncomfortable, but she forces herself not to walk away and not to wrap her arms around herself.  Bellatrix is broken enough as it is, she doesn’t need to be constantly reminded that even her new allies (or at least one of them) feels the need to protect themselves from her.  Hermione tries to swallow, but her throat is too dry, so she rasps out:

              
“I know, you are not that monster anymore, but fear is irrational.”  She looks at Bellatrix, she pauses to take her in.  Bellatrix’s expression is pained, bitter, disgusted even, she is obviously recalling some memories.    
“As I am positive that you well know by now.”  Hermione comes to the only logical explanation given what she knows of Bellatrix’s story and her body language.

 

Bellatrix looks up, her lips are pressed in a tight line, she is taking deep breaths, her posture is rigid, her body language tells how she is fighting her own inner demons, and just how familiar she is with everything Hermione said.    
Hermione watches her former tormentor, and her fingers trail to her left forearm, she doesn’t even notice that she is touching her scar.  Just when Bellatrix’ expression suddenly changes, her eyes slightly widening, lips parting, her features mirroring astonishment, Hermione catches up what she is doing, she quickly lets both her arms fall at her sides.  But Bellatrix keeps on staring at Hermione’s arm, eyes never wavering frozen to the scar in a morbid curiosity, until her expression softens, her eyes fall closed, her brows knitting together.  When she opens her eyes, she locks her gaze with Hermione’s.

 

Hermione is taken aback by the amount of regret directed at her.  Bellatrix slowly lifts her right hand, fingers outstretched as if she wanted to touch Hermione.  The young woman immediately steps back, lifts her wand, eyes darting to the door then back to Bellatrix.  She sees that Bellatrix still wears that soft expression, her posture relaxed and calm, arm still outstretched, waiting for Hermione.

 

 _What does she want?_ Hermione thinks frantically _. She doesn't seem to be dangerous or threatening...  Why does she hold her arm like that?  Not her whole palm, just the tips of her fingers are directed at me...  Wait!  Our handshake last night..._

Hermione wearily steps closer and hesitantly lifts her own arm.  The thought of touching Bellatrix still makes her shudder, but in the end she is a Gryffindor, so she squares her shoulders and pushes her fingertips against Bellatrix’s.

 

Immediately her mind is filled with that soft whispering voice.

 

_'I am so sorry.  This isn't going to make anything right, what I did to you is unforgivable, but I wanted you to know that I regret every moment of it.  And please know, that I am going to do anything I can to help you against Selach, or whatever else you are going to decide.'_

Bellatrix lets her arm fall, and patiently waits for Hermione’s reaction.  Hermione just stares at her.  For once in her life, she is positively speechless.

              
“I... I... um...”  She clears her still scratchy throat, but only to buy her time and gather her thoughts, “this means a lot Bellatrix!  A thank you is inappropriate in our situation, but nevertheless you saying this, meant a lot.”

 

Bellatrix just nods, reaches behind herself and grabs a bottle of water from Hermione’s desk, she holds it out.  Hermione is even more surprised but takes it and after gulping down nearly the whole bottle, she asks:    
“Just how long have you been here?  And why?  Oh, um thank you for the water.”

 

 _If it isn't one of the strangest things to thank Bellatrix Black..._ She muses.

Bellatrix once again lifts her hand, but this time she seems a bit uncertain.  Hermione does the same, albeit more hesitantly.  She has to force herself not to flinch, the presence of the other woman unnerves her, and she knows, it is going to be like this for a long time.  Their fingers brush once again, skin-to-skin, and Hermione hears that by now familiar whispering voice.

 

 _'Long enough.'_ Here they both avert their eyes, but don’t break the contact.  ' _As for why, well I don't have an actual, real answer for that...’_ Bellatrix trails off uncertainly. She tries to gather her thoughts, until:  
_‘You are the only person who knows, who understands what it feels like to...  You understand and you won't pity me, ever.  And... and alone being near you constantly reminds me that the monster I used to be doesn't exist anymore, that now I have a chance to do something right in my life.  However how indefinable right is.'  
_ She lifts her eyes and looks at Hermione.

Hermione steps back, again stunned by the older witch.  She looks at Bellatrix, her expression is so pained, displaying emotions, guilt, regret, determination, her eyes... her eyes are a bit glazed over, almost as if she were far away, re-living a memory.

 

“Bellatrix.”

 

No response.  Hermione reaches out and tentatively puts her hand on her shoulder.  When Bellatrix flinches back and brings her arms hastily up, as if she wanted to protect her head from being hit, Hermione knows her suspicions are true.

She sighs and waits.  She knows from firsthand experience, you have to step back, stay motionless, until the person snaps out of their memories, touching would just increase the panic.

She walks back to her bed, sipping the water, plops down and waits.  Her eyes are lingering on Bellatrix.

 

 _How strange.  I can't even hear her breathing._ Hermione idly observes _.  But the rapid falling of her chest indicates that she must be panting.  What on Earth happened to her?  And what is this communication via skin contact?  Is this a new form of Legilimency?  Does it go both ways?  Could she see my memories?  Could I communicate with her just in thoughts?_

A sudden movement interrupts Hermione’s musings.  Bellatrix is rubbing her left upper arm, eyes darting around the room, until they find Hermione.  Seeing Hermione, strangely enough, seems to calm her down significantly.

 

“Hello again Bellatrix, welcome back.”

              
Bellatrix just nods, still slightly frightened eyes never leaving Hermione.      
“I believe we have the same problem.”  Hermione states.

  
Bellatrix blushes and averts her gaze.

              
”We both are trying to deal with our experiences.  I assume you can’t sleep...” she sees the witch nodding, “so you came here, because you knew that I won’t pity you, and because somehow I seem to have a reassuring effect on you?”  She asks rather disbelievingly.

 

While Hermione is talking her left arm is moving in slow circles as if this would help her search for the answers.  Her brows are knitted and she looks questioningly at Bellatrix.

 

Bellatrix’s eyes are once again directed to Hermione’s forearm, where her scar is, she once again looks absolutely astonished.  Nevertheless, she nods again, answering Hermione’s question.

 

 _That can't be all!  I guess I just have to wait until she can open up enough to tell._ Hermione decides to let it go.  For now.She notices what Bellatrix is looking at.  She sighs and rolls her eyes, she so knew that this was going to come up...

 

“Look, I am not going to explain it now, because the others are going to question it too, and frankly, I’d prefer to tell this just once.  Plus, we both should sleep now.  We have lot of careful planning to do today, and for this we need to rest, you too.”  She tiredly sighs, and rubs her face.

 

 _Maybe knowing that Bellatrix Black is here, she is real and Lestrange is dead, could help me too_.  She snorts at her own naiveté mirthlessly. 

Hermione speaks up again: “If you, if you believe that this could help us, you may stay here.  I could transfigure that chair into a bed, and you could sleep there.  I know you are not _her_ any more, but I am still not comfortable enough around you to share a bed with you, so...” Here she trails off and looks up at the other woman.

 

Bellatrix just smiles sadly and nods.  With a flick of her wand Hermione takes care of their sleeping arrangements.

 

“Good night Bellatrix.”

 

Somehow they both drift off into a dreamless sleep for the first time in weeks.

 

 

*

 

Narcissa Black knows that her sister wandered away not twenty minutes after they entered their room last night.  However, she isn’t going to ask what exactly Bellatrix is doing.  Narcissa with all her social skills and intellect knows where her limits are.  And now, as much as she loves Bella, she knows she can’t help her, no matter how much she would love to.  Besides, she has a hunch where her sister is.

 

 _Maybe the Granger girl could help her.  No, not girl.  Hermione Granger is an experienced woman, wise beyond her years, and..._ She thinks bitterly as images of the twitching, screaming bushy haired teenager lying on her floor enter her mind. _E_ _verybody would lose even the last ounce of their innocence, trust in the world, and naiveté after something like she has been through._

With a deep sigh Narcissa forces herself not to think about the night when her son’s schoolmates were brought to her house.

  
She is not going back to sleep again, but it’s still too early to leave the bed, even by her standards, so she is lying on her back and stares at the ceiling, watching the changing lights as the sun rises.

 

_Bella is broken, not just her magical core, but emotionally as well.  She can't move on, she is partly still trapped by her experiences during her captivity.  Not to mention that she must have been tortured judging by the way she reacts to sudden movements sometimes.  And I can't even imagine the extent of damage losing her magical abilities did to her, to her person, to her identity...  She has always been the most talented one and the most in tune with her own magic among the three of us.  Couple this with her beliefs about blood supremacy and anybody else in her situation would search for death, or become almost catatonic with depression.  But not her, not my sister.  She is determined to live on, to regard this as a second chance, to fight and show that she is still standing, that she isn't defeated yet.  She truly is a wonder, my sister.  And I can be proud of calling her that in decades for the first time.  This person, Bella Black deserves a chance at happiness, and frankly, I am selfish enough to want her in my life.  And my son needs someone else in his life besides me, it would do him good after everything he has been through because of his sorry excuse of a father._

Narcissa’s left hand is under her head, and with the right she is lazily drawing different patterns on her blanket.

 

_Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, a Gryffindor through and through, with a kind heart, a muggle heritage and in need of healing herself could offer something to my sister that nobody else can.  Understanding.  Each other’s company might benefit them both.  Although to leave the two of them alone could lead to serious problems as well, but I believe they could manage, despite their...differences and past._

She turns her face to the window, looking at the morning lights, smiling at the thought that a few years ago, around this time an overly active blond boy would have rushed into her room, jumped on her bed, throwing his arms around her, looking up at her with shiny grey eyes and a huge smile.  His fine blonde hair was always dishevelled, and Narcissa would always caress it, trying to move it out of his face, while he was enthusiastically bubbling about his latest dreams.

 

Yes, Narcissa misses her son, but she smiles at the thought that he is safe and she is going to meet him soon.  In the meantime she always could recall her happy memories with Draco, or daydream about grandchildren.

 

With one last look at the window, she decides it’s time to get up.  She leaves her bed, back held straight, she steps as gracefully as ever prim and proper as a woman of her (former) social stand should, no matter her current situation.  At the stairs she meets Luna and Harry, all three of them enter the kitchen the same time.  She finds an acceptable china, ever since being on the run with Bella, she has seriously redefined what exactly acceptable means, pours herself a cup of tea, takes a place at the table, and with fluid and graceful movements sips her drink.  Without making any sounds, naturally.  She is still musing about her son, but she finds her company rather amusing.  So Narcissa Black begins her morning with a sincere and a bit optimistic smile for the first time in weeks.

 

*

 

Harry Potter hasn’t slept in a bed since the second week of May, and even then he could enjoy that luxury just for four nights, since shortly after the final battle Luna and he decided to go into hiding.  Again.

              
As a result Harry has had enough camping in his humble opinion for a lifetime.  He was practically living in tents for over a year.  So when he woke up this morning in a room in Hermione’s house, in a bed, with not one but two pillows under his head...well, those seven and half seconds while he could appreciate this luxury were heaven itself.  Those seven and half seconds while his mind hasn’t registered yet that a way too bubbly and cheerful witch is trying to drag him out of bed.  And Luna did try her hardest.  Her Auguamenti charm in his face was particularly convincing, Harry thinks with a grimace.

 

When he jumped out of his decidedly, positively, absolutely favourite place in the world, she grabbed his hand and they went downstairs into the kitchen.  All the way Luna was bubbling about nargels or some other creatures, yellow flowers, and big plans.  Harry barely could manage a good morning in Narcissa’s direction when he finally noticed that the rather scary witch is with them too.

 

Which leads to Harry’s current situation.  He is sitting at the table, his fuzzy mind is definitely too sleepy to engage in activities other than brooding over his waking up, the bed that he dearly misses and the fascinating colour of his tea.

 

*

 

Luna Lovegood is having a particularly good morning so far.  She woke up early, which she still suspects is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack’s fault, since they tend to be especially playful on a sunny summer morning.  Admittedly, she encountered some difficulties with convincing her friend of the benefits of an early rising, but nothing serious that a witch of her intellect couldn’t manage.

  
To her deepest joy, upon entering the kitchen and greeting Narcissa she discovered that Hermione has _those_ special yellow flowers on their table that Blibbering Humdingers just adore, so Luna, of course doesn’t lift her eyes off of the special plant, that doesn’t mean though that she isn’t aware of Narcissa’s good-hearted amusement at their company.

As soon as Luna takes a place at the table, she leans forward to have a closer look at the petals, she is about to touch one of them, when Harry Potter decides to water said special flowers in a rather unconventional way.  And now Luna simply _has_ to look up.

 

*

 

Harry cracked his eyes open just in time to see his friend and Bellatrix enter the kitchen.  For a brief second he thinks Luna must have slipped some of those yellow flowers in his tea, he must be hallucinating...  Because.  On.  The.  Left.  Arm.  Of.  Good.  Girl.  Extraordinaire.  (Apart from her friends.)  Hermione.  Granger. Is.  A.  Giant.  Tattoo!  So Harry does what every very shocked friend of his age would do...  He spits his tea out (to Narcissa’s immense dismay), droplets landing across the table _and_ on Luna’s special flowers.

 

Narcissa lifts her eyes from the Boy-Who-Lived-Without-Learning-Any-Manners to greet her sister.  When she sees Hermione’s tattoo, she barely lifts her eyebrow, but her lips move in a decidedly amused smile.

 

 _That witch is surely full of surprises._ She thinks.

Her sister seems to share her opinion, since she too is staring at Hermione.

              
“Good morning Bella.”   
Narcissa steps up to her and kisses her cheek, this is a new habit for both of them.  Bellatrix hugs her briefly, painfully awkwardly, yet smiles at her in a greeting, eyes sparkling with amusement.  She appears calm and more rested than Narcissa has ever seen her these past weeks.  “I gather you could talk with Ms. Granger and had a good sleep.”  Bellatrix just nods, and pulls her to the table, taking the place next to Narcissa’s chair, flashing a mischievous smile at her sister, and turning her attention to the scene unfolding before them.  Narcissa just chuckles at her sister’s antics.  _I haven't seen her this carefree since our early years at Hogwarts._ She puts her hand on Bellatrix’s forearm, tightens her hold a bit, then she too turns to the young ones.

 

Harry is still gaping at his best friend, while Hermione is nonchalantly putting items on the table.  She is clearly amused by her friend’s reaction judging by her cheerful but extremely off-key whistling.  After she places the bowls in the middle of the table she plops down next to the Black sisters, in front of Harry.  She turns to Bellatrix and says.    
“I promised you I would help you to get to know the muggle world.  I think we should begin with small things, this morning for example you could get a taste of it literally.  What do you say?”  This is Hermione’s tentative way to offer truce.

 

Bellatrix looks at her with wonder, smiles shyly and nods.

 

“Alright, try this cereal with milk, something like that you can’t have in the wizarding world, you know just porridge or traditional English breakfast sadly.”  Hermione gives Bellatrix the box, and she immediately begins to read what is in it, while Hermione places a bowl and the milk in front of her.

 

“Then take a slice of bread and put this on it,” here she pushes a glass jar to Bellatrix, “it’s similar to ordinary chocolate, just better.”

 

At this, Luna looks also interested.  Hermione passes plates and knives to everyone, winks at Luna, and turns back to the Black sisters.  Bellatrix with a look of extreme concentration and determination on her face does exactly as Hermione advised, then after the first bite she begins to devour her breakfast.  Seeing this, Narcissa looks at Hermione and smiles gratefully at her.

 

Hermione pours herself a cup of tea, puts cheese and fruit on her plate, wordlessly offers two yogurts to the sisters, nods encouragingly at her friends to grab whatever they like, and begins to eat herself, but then she sighs a bit annoyed.

 

“Honestly Harry!  Snap out of it!  Yes, I have a tattoo, and in fact I plan on getting more in the future, I rather like this one.  Also, every fifth person on Earth has a tattoo it’s not like you haven’t seen one before.”

 

“But, but...  It’s you ‘Mione!”  Harry moves his hands in a circular motion, as if testing that the world still hasn’t stopped moving around him, all the while looking expectantly at his friend.

 

“Seriously, you call that an argument?”  Hermione rolls her eyes and lifts her left eyebrow.  She sighs again and when she notices that everybody is looking at her, she knows that she has to explain.

 

“Firstly, I want you to be aware that my brother doesn’t know that I was tortured.  He knows everything about the war, our involvement and our part in it, everything but my torture.  And I would like to leave it that way.  So please don’t mention it to him.”  She looks in everybody’s eyes one by one until she sees them all nodding.  “You can talk about the war in front of him though.  He knows everything I knew, I had to explain to him the situation before I Obliviated my parents, and since I came here to live with him after the final battle I told him everything else.”  She is quite for a long minute, fighting off unwanted memories, but then she continues:

 

“Well, with that cleared, now on with the actual topic.  I tried to heal my wound, to make the word vanish, but I couldn’t.  By the time I was able to do research on wounds caused by goblin made weapons, well it was too late.  No matter what I did, the word only faded, but it was still very visible.  Even my best efforts left a faint white but very much readable ‘mudblood’ behind.  I didn’t want that word to have permanent definition power over me, or over my body.  I didn’t want a reminder that some people think I am less than them.  I am not lower than anybody else, and I am so much more than my heritage.  I am proud of it, don’t misunderstand me, but that hateful, degrading word doesn’t describe me, it just stamps me as something low, filthy, something less than human.  So I got it covered in ink.”  She shrugs her shoulder.  The careless gesture is rather atypical for Hermione, thus, everyone who knows her well enough can clearly see, how she is still not over this year’s happenings, no matter what a brave front she has put on.

 

Bellatrix knocks on the table, indicating that she wants to say something.  Narcissa conjures a parchment, ink and quill for her, and looks thoughtfully at Hermione.

 

“I think my sister wants to say, that you weren’t too late with your research.”  Narcissa says slowly, thoughtfully.  “Yes, normally you could heal it with strong potions, but my sister’s dagger was cursed.  By all means, it should have left an angry red scar behind, the fact that you managed to fade it and heal it to this degree is quite the achievement, Hermione.”  She tilts her head at Hermione in acknowledgement.

 

Bellatrix puts down her quill, and nods after looking gratefully at Narcissa.

 

“Yes, well...”  Hermione averts her eyes and munches absentmindedly on her piece of cheese.  She has no idea, how to accept praise from these particular sources.  So she turns her arm and looks at the tattoo.

 

Harry clears his throat, asking at last.

“And what about its meaning, ‘Mione?”

 

“Harry please, refrain from calling me that!”  Hermione exclaims rather irritatedly.  She takes a deep breath and continues in a slightly melancholy tone:  “That girl doesn’t exist anymore.  Besides, Ronald also used to call me that.”

 

Harry pulls a disgusted face at the mention of their former friend.

“Alright... Hermione.”  He smiles at her encouragingly.

 

“As you can see,” Hermione’s voice takes on that slightly bossy, alive-with-barely-contained-excitement tone of hers, typical for when she is explaining something particularly fascinating.  “…it’s a coloured, muggle, non-moving tattoo.  I designed it.”  Here she smiles extremely proud, and the mood around the table immediately shifts from gloomy to slightly amused one.  “It’s muggle, because, like I said, I am proud of my heritage.”

She trails off, with a melancholy smile on her face that is reserved for happy but long gone times.

 

“I had a beautiful life before Hogwarts, and even after learning about me being a witch my parents have always been extremely supportive, and open-minded.”  Everyone can see and hear her love for her parents on her face and voice.    
“I have never felt that I am not welcomed in the muggle world.  My parents have always said that our world is a very colourful one, and we, as thinking human beings have the duty to discover as many shades of these colours as we can, discover them, accept them and cherish them.  This wasn’t meant as a justification to a passive life that does nothing about injustice, but a mere idea to be open-minded and embrace differences.  So in their, in our world the existence of a hidden wizarding world perfectly fit.”  Hermione pauses and for a moment she is lost in a happy memory, a small smile gracing her features, lighting up her whole face, but then she continues in a very serious, yet still bossy tone.

 

“As some of you know my patronus is an otter.  And a full patronus is the only way to see one’s magic in a corporal form, if you’d like, it’s like the personification of your magic _and_ your personality.  Mine is a clever little predator who lives in the clearest waters and is often underestimated.”  She adds rather smugly.  “Anyway, the waves, or sea tattooed around my elbow and under it is because of my patronus, I wanted something that symbolises the beauty of the magical word, the beauty of my own magic.  The old oak tree that grows from the water and stretches on along my underarm tells me to never forget that I am so much more than my magic, me being a witch alone doesn’t define me.  And the birds around my wrist that grow out of the flying leaves symbolise freedom and a cheerful carelessness that I want to aspire to.”

 

She looks up at the others, Harry is smiling slightly but proudly, Luna is grinning while humming once again, Narcissa is intently looking at her sister, then back at Hermione.

 

Bellatrix has tears in her eyes and is biting her lower lip.

 

_How strange that she can relate to this more than anybody else._

“All right, let’s move on, today we have some serious topics to discuss, we have to carefully plan our next move, our future even!”  Exclaims Hermione as she grabs an apple from the basket in front of her, throws it in the air, catches it, and looks up expectantly at the others.

 

Everybody’s body language changes, the atmosphere becomes serious, not on a melancholic or bitter way, but on a determined, knowing that life-changing decisions are going to be made way.

 

“Narcissa, Bellatrix, you wanted to get to Draco, apart from this did you plan anything else?  Did you want to fight or do something against Selach and the repression in Wizarding England?”  Hermione asks them curiously.

 

“Beside my son, Bella is the only family I have left, and Selach did something unimaginable to her.  Nobody, and I mean nobody hurts my family without suffering the consequences.”  Narcissa’s ice blue eyes become extremely cold, her face radiates her anger and determination, she straightens her back and her fist tightens around her wand.  
All in all, she successfully redefines the meaning of frightening.

 

She looks at Hermione, her expression softens a bit then says.  “Truth be told, I haven’t planned anything concrete yet.  I just wanted to get to Draco, where hopefully I can gather more information about the political situation here, and plan my next move.”  Narcissa curls her lips self-confidently, maybe a hint of the infamous Slytherin arrogance is playing in her eyes.  “I am positive a witch of my skill and connections could achieve some things.”  She finishes with a lazy flick of her fingers.

 

“Excellent!”  Hermione tries to be opportunistic, rather predictably, but she has to ask, nevertheless.  “So would you be willing to help us if we want to do something against Selach while we are in exile?  And maybe even after that?”

 

Bellatrix slaps her left hand on the table, slightly scaring everybody else.  She is clearly excited about the idea.  She hurriedly writes down a simple word:  _YES!_

Narcissa however reacts a bit more carefully.  “Hermione, my main goal is ensuring the safety and happiness of my family.  I am not going to idly sit by, I intend to take an active role, but however how enthusiastic my dearest sister is about fighting...” here she casts a disapproving look at the still excitedly fidgeting older witch, “we are not going to take part in a frontal war.”  She closes her eyes tiredly, as sadness washes over her.  “We were in the front lines during the war, always targeted, and my family almost didn’t make it.  I am not going to risk losing them again.  I am going to support you, but I refuse to take part in combat, unless it’s absolutely unavoidable.”

 

Hermione thoughtfully drums with her fingers on the table before answering.  “Don’t worry about a frontal war, that isn’t going to happen this time around.  Harry, Luna and I spoke about this issue last night.”

 

She carefully throws the apple from one hand to the other.

  
“Not only don’t we have the forces to openly attack, we are collective enemies of the English wizarding society too.  This means on one hand, we are not going to find supporters here, and on the other hand a move like this would be beyond pointless.”  She catches the apple in her right and counts her arguments on her left hand.

              
“Firstly we would play right into the hands of Selach’s propaganda, proving that we truly are aggressive and dangerous murderers, scaring away any potential help.  Secondly now, this time, our enemy is a deeply organised, controlled society; not an influential but isolated half militant group.”

 

She looks up at her friends and Narcissa, but she doesn’t dare to look at Bellatrix.  “We could defeat the Death Eaters and end the war by simply eliminating Voldy, because he was so focused on power, his own immortality and hunting down a teenage boy that he failed to secure his social basis.  He didn’t reach out to the people apart from keeping them in terror.  Selach on the other hand has already built up a functioning machine that would go on only strengthened if he happened to die.  Think about it, he has organs that control every part of society.  Plus he rules the majority of wizarding England by consensus.  On the surface he displays the image of a saviour, a peace keeper, his promises won over most of the people.  But behind the scenes he constantly keeps everybody in line by spying on them, monitoring them, with his Blue Jackets, and he blames everything on the Wanted Ones, the Dark and Light side.  We wouldn’t have a chance against him if we fought him face on.”  Hermione sighs tiredly.  The way her jaw works indicates just how frustrated she is, but otherwise she holds her composure together well enough.

  
“I don’t know yet what exactly we are going to do, but it is certain, we have to be extremely smart about it to actually manage to change the situation.  For a while we are going to have to tone down our Gryffindorness and dig up the inner Ravenclaw, heck even the Slytherin!”

 

At this line of thought Harry looks slightly scandalised, Luna just has a knowing smile on her face, while the sisters appear to be deep in thought.

 

Hannibal chooses exactly this moment to walk in.  This time he is descent enough.  Well, as descent as jeans and a Star Wars themed t-shirt wearing twenty-two years old ever could be.  He politely smiles at everyone.  “Good morning!  I hope you all had a pleasant night.  If there is anything I could help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask, and most importantly make yourself at home!  My sister’s friends are mine too.”

 

With that he walks up to Hermione, beams at her and pulls her in a bear hug.  Hermione just laughs at his antics, returns the hug and ruffles his hair.

              
“Baby sis! You look positively more rested than I have seen you these past few weeks.”  He isn’t asking Hermione anything, he just stated a fact.  Han has always thought that when his sister was ready, she was going to tell him what exactly happened to her, until then she has his silent support, as always.

  
Hermione knows this and smiles gratefully at him, hugging him once again.  Han turns to the two older women.

  
“Good morning!  I believe we haven’t met yet, and that is partially my fault.  I do apologise for not greeting you last night.  Getting documents at this short notice is slightly more difficult than I would have imagined.  Welcome to our home!  I’m Hannibal the bossy witch’s very muggle brother.”  He looks back at his sister, smiles and winks at her, showing her that he is clearly teasing her, Hermione just rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.  Han turns back to the sisters, smiles politely at them and offers his hand.

 

Narcissa returns his smile, positively surprised by his manners and shakes his hand.  “Narcissa Black, and this is my sister Bellatrix Black.  Pleased to meet you and thank you for having us.”

 

Bellatrix offers her hand, holds his gaze while they shake hands, but then she curiously looks at his t-shirt, the ‘May the force be with you’ text does hold an appeal for her.  She hesitantly looks at Hermione, silently questioning her.

 

“It’s a saying of the...ehhm...soldiers of the light side in a famous muggle story.”  Hermione is uncomfortably rubbing at the nape of her neck, clearly more than a bit put out by the fact that she is discussing jedi knights, of all things, with Bellatrix Black.

 

“And now I am positively scandalised!  How could you sum up the epic Star Wars in such a miserable way?!”  Han playfully nudges his sister’s shoulder, smiles teasingly at her while he takes a seat next to her.

              
Harry snorts in amusement, he decided that he likes Hannibal.  The guy surely is fun to be around, plus it’s simply hilarious that _he_ is the brother of ‘Or-Worse-We-Could-Get-Expelled-Hermione Granger’.

  
Luna just hums, smiles dreamily and her gaze is glued to the yellow flowers in the middle of the table.  Again.  Hermione scowls at her friends lightly, there are just times where they are absolutely no help.

 

“Han, Narcissa and Bellatrix both grew up and lived in the wizarding world so far.  They had practically no contact at all with the muggle world.  So naturally, they know very little to nothing about our everyday life, let alone about popular culture.”  Her tone takes on a familiar, lecturing one.  She tries to not use it often, but sometimes she still slips up.  Luckily for Hermione, her brother and friends love her and know her enough not to take it personally.

 

Han thoughtfully grabs a toast, puts jam on it and begins to eat.  After swallowing he asks.  “Bellatrix and Narcissa who are sisters...and grew up in the wizarding world...  Haven’t you mentioned them?  Just...they were fighting against you, and practically despised everything you stood for.”  Everybody at the table tenses, but Han just eats his toast calmly, his tone isn’t disapproving, nor disbelieving, merely curious.  He trusts his sister above anything.  The brightest witch of her age, _his_ sister, would never decide in a matter like this without thinking everything through.  He is sure she has a very good explanation.

 

He puts down his toast and looks at Hermione and then at the two older women.  Narcissa has her mask on, her face isn’t betraying any of her thoughts, Bellatrix on the other hand is deathly pale and she isn’t lifting her gaze off of the table.  Hermione clears her throat.

 

“That’s right Han.  We fought on different sides in the war.  They both are pure-bloods, their family was traditionally one of the biggest and oldest supporters of blood supremacy and dark magic in wizarding England.  But at the end of the war, Narcissa saved Harry’s life, and since Selach has begun with building his dictatorship, they are wanted too.  Bellatrix was even captured, and they did something to her, so now she can’t speak nor can she do any magic.  They are one of the few remaining people in wizarding England who could aid us against the new regime.  We have a common enemy and we need each other.  And after Bellatrix lost her magical abilities...well, let’s just say they both radically changed their view of world.”

 

Hermione looks fleetingly at the sisters, Bellatix still isn’t meeting anyone’s gaze, her jaw is tensed, her hands white from gripping the table so hard.  She is obviously fighting her memories.  Narcissa smiles sadly at Hermione and nods at Han as if verifying that everything his sister said is true.  She puts her right hand on Bellatrix left arm and rubs her lightly.

 

“And...and...” Hermione takes a shaky breath, the next few words she wants to say appear to be more difficult than she had thought, she squares her shoulders and finishes her sentence with a whisper, “I believe, I trust them.”  She never lifts her eyes from her brother’s.

 

He looks thoughtfully at her then nods as if he decided something.

              
“And I trust your judgement.  If you think they are valuable allies then I am going to help them too.”  At this Bellatrix lifts her head suddenly up and looks incredulously at him.  Prim and proper Narcissa Black is for the first time in her life is at loss on how she actually should react, at the end she settles for a small but sincere smile.

 

Hermione just hugs Han.

  
“And apropos to helping, your passports are going to be ready by this afternoon, all five of them, we just have to make the pictures.”

 

“Thank you Han.”

 

“Don’t mention it sis.  Now I believe we have some serious planning to do.”  He claps his hands and looks at his sister expectantly.

 

Hermione once again picks her apple up, twirls it for a while in her right hand, lost in thought. However before she could open her mouth, Luna begins to talk:

 

“We agreed so far that Narcissa and Bellatrix are going to help us, that an open attack is not only inexecutable, but even if we did have an army it would be pointless to take our enemy head on, given the nature of Selach’s dictatorship and it’s deeply rooted state in the wizarding society.  He is supported, and what is worse, even loved.  So we came to the conclusion that we are going to France, gather information and possible allies, we are going to come up with a cunning plan.  I assume we are going to find weak spots in his repression machinery, push on them and let the whole system crumble and fall apart.  However, the most challenging part is going to be coming up with a political alternative, and re-organising wizarding Britain and its society.  If, and I emphasise _if_ there is anything that we could do about this situation.  Right now our chances look rather slim.  And now I believe your very practical sister is going to ask several questions.”

 

After saying this Luna leans back, picks up her cup of cocoa, continues to hum, and draw some floral patterns on the table with her left, all the while smiling softly at Hermione.

 

Naturally everybody else is gaping at her.

 

 _I swear she is sometimes scarier than Hermione._ Here Harry chances a look at his best friend, but then shakes his head.  _Nope, no, nothing tops the dragon lady!_ Apparently, that little adventure left permanent damages behind.  He is sometimes ashamed of himself, when he thinks about, how he managed to trick a Horntail during the Turnament, and felt nothing but pride, but one ride on a dragon following Hermione’s out of the box ideas, and he is a changed man.  _Boy, am I glad that I am friends with two of the most brilliant witches in wizarding England!  This way, I am never going to get bored.  Or old, for that matter._ He rolls his eyes at his own rapidly developing dramatic streak, but the he turns to Hermione, excitedly smiling at the possibility of a new adventure.

 

Hermione gleefully bites in her apple, and grins at Luna.

                          
“Thank you, Luna. And now...” Her expression is once again radiating sheer willpower and determination, she pauses and seems to think something through.

              
_Uh-oh.  Now she is in full ‘research mode’.  I really hope that her plans are going to actually work out this time...  And that there isn't going to be any dragons, of course._

Harry thinks, but before he can tentatively voice his fears, Hermione turns to Narcissa to his surprise.

 

“I have always had the impression that although you stood in the background, you understood politics more than anybody in your circle, you could judge the situations better than you have ever let it on.  And you have proven my assumptions by saving Harry’s life.  And by being here.”  Hermione is still intently looking at Narcissa.

 

“If I may be frank, I would have never imagined that somebody could see through my façade that well.”  Narcissa says.  “But you are right, of course.”  She is still a bit shocked, and somehow the way she looks at Hermione changes a bit, she never thought she would, but she did underestimate the young witch.

 

“Excellent, then you could fill us in, or correct us, if we get something wrong!  The same goes for you Bellatrix.”  Hermione looks at her.  She is still uneasy around Bellatrix, but she tries not to show it.  “I think you might know more than anybody else.”  She says softly.  “But we are not going to push you, you can always talk to us if you are ready.”  Her brown eyes are filled with understanding as she looks at the older witch.  Bellatrix just gives her the slightest smile and nods.

 

“I need to understand the situation better to see what we can do against it.”  Hermione declares.  “Luna has already explained to me what an important role the avoiding state of mind, the traditionally passive social patterns typical for the majority of wizarding Britain played in the development of this dictatorship.  And she addressed the fears this vast majority has from both of the previously active social powers, the so called light and the dark side.  She mentioned the problems that lacking political openness, and the conserving nature caused.”  Hermione pauses, gathers her thoughts then continues.

 

“What surprises me is this sudden change in the ‘grey zone’.  I mean even before the war they were the ones governing, but back then because of all the reasons I mentioned above, this fear of structural changes, the preserving nature all this kept a weak man, Fudge without any actual leader abilities at the top of wizarding Britain.  Where does this sudden change come from, the need of a ‘charismatic leader’?  How is Morgan Selach keeping his position with a declared active agenda?”  Hermione bites on her lower lip, deep in thought while looking at Narcissa.

 

Narcissa sighs, and smiles at Hermione humourlessly.

              
“With the ‘magic of simple words’, of course.  He is a very skilled manipulator, he used the post-war vacuum of power and the desperate, outraged, tired atmosphere that years long of fighting and insecurity could cause for his own benefit.  He and his ‘3rd Path’ offered something that neither dark, nor light could.  They appeared as a new power in the political stage.  They give the illusion of a clean cut from the ‘wrong politics’ that both dark and light did, that led to the second war in less than twenty years.  Never mind that the main cause of the war was the grey zone’s inactivity, or the fact that they were actually governing not the light or the dark side even before the war.  Don’t underestimate the slogans of ‘we are one of you’, ‘we are part of the grey zone too’, ‘we suffered this war just as much as you did’.  It’s important to see that Selach hides his actual agenda behind offering somebody else to blame for the war, and offering ‘understanding and bonding’ over ‘common’ experiences, over being a victim of both of the fighting sides.”

 

Narcissa pushes her chair back, turns fully to Hermione, gracefully crosses her legs and continues.  “The moment he began to build his ‘enemy images’, the moment he blamed solely us, the actual politically active parts of society for the whole war, he created fear too at the same time.  Fear about the possibility that a war like this could occur again, a fear that he carefully keeps alive because it serves his political goals.  Never mind the fact that on both “light” and on the “dark” side there weren’t more than about fifty _constantly active supporters_.  Let’s not count now the students, families or the creatures as allies, or the ones gained at the highest power of terror.  How on Earth could have barely a hundred people break out a country-wide war by themselves?”  With her last few sentences Narcissa gets visibly agitated.  She tries to regain her composure by biting the inside of her cheeks.  But even after a moment of silence, her tone still carries just a mere hint of the frustration she must feel:

 

“So he uses propaganda, creates enemies to show how bad life can be, and under the illusion of preventing possible war situations he justifies his control over everyone’s everyday life.  He is feeding people’s fears and emphasises his own importance.  He has really thought everything through.”  Narcissa finishes at last.  Her gaze trails from Hermione to Harry and Luna, noting how bone-weary and worried all three of them look.  She doubts that she told them any considerable new insight, she just managed to illustrate just how desperate their situation truly is.  In an atypical flair of empathy she feels bad for these three young adults.  To be this young, having endured this much, and now they have to face an even gloomier, more hopeless future than any of them thought possible, even during the Dark Lord’s highest power.  She at least had a sheltered, privileged childhood and a somewhat successful marriage.  But most importantly, she has a brilliant, beautiful son.  So even if she were to die now, or live the rest of her life in exile, she can truthfully say, her life has been a beautiful one.  But these young adult don’t have luxuries like the assurance of having led a fulfilling life, despite her numerous regrets.  She locks her gaze with Luna.  The knowing look in those silver-grey eyes still startles her.  Luna nods at her then snuggles up to Harry’s side, leaning her head on his shoulder, seemingly inadvertently anchoring Harry in the moment, reminding him that he mustn’t fight this time alone.

 

Hermione drums on her chin, she begins to mumble slightly absentmindedly as if she were voicing her thoughts without even noticing it.  “The lacking democratic traditions has always been very obvious in the wizarding world.  Fudge was Minister of Magic for forever, and there wasn’t a functioning opposition.  The three powers have never been separated, Fudge and his cabinet were in one person the legislative and the executive power, and he could lead the Wizengamot too at Harry’s trial.  Which means that the judicative power has never been independent either.  This indicates that there isn’t a legal way, a political organ that we could use to crash Selach and his system.”

 

She munches on her apple, still deeply lost in thought, without even realising that everybody is staring questioningly at her.  Nevertheless, nobody dares to disturb her.  As a new thought occurs to her, she forgets all about manners for once in her life and says, without managing to fully swallow her apple.    
“The wizarding world doesn’t have its own whole economy either, apart from manufacturing wizarding artefacts and the trade with magical plants or animals.  Despite their magic they still depend on the muggle economy, for example when it comes to food.  In this regard both worlds are interwoven.  So targeting the economy would be useless too.”

 

Suddenly she snaps out of her thoughts.  As she turns to her slightly dumbfounded company, she blushes.  Her embarrassment about having been seen talking to herself is evident, as she uncomfortably runs her hand through her hair.  Yet she doesn’t want to lose her train of thought, besides she vowed to herself never ever to apologise to anyone for her mind, or how it works.  So she finishes her apple in silence and stands up to throw the remaining parts in the garbage.  She doesn’t sit down any more, but leans back against the kitchen counter and looks at the others.

 

“Sis, you are scary sometimes.”  Han tells Hermione with an easy, reassuring smile.  He notices her discomfort, so he is using a gentle, loving voice.  Hermione sends him a grateful look.

  
“I second that!”  Harry exclaims, as he can’t help himself but look at Hermione once again with awe in his eyes.  Luna on the other hand just nods, as if she won a silent argument against herself and sing-songs:  “She isn’t finished yet”.

 

Hermione smiles at her friends.  But then she has again a faraway look on her face.  Her eyes widen slightly, as if something truly important just occurred to her and she hastily turns to Narcissa.    
“Say Narcissa, what is his opinion on expansion?”     

  
“I am absolutely sure that he doesn’t plan anything like that.”  Narcissa states in her most reassuring voice.

              
“Yes, my sources said the same.”  Luna cuts in, before Narcissa can say anything else.  “His goal is to ‘preserve the equilibrium by cutting out the extremes’.”  Luna’s voice drops, imitating that of a middle-aged man’s as she quotes Selach’s propaganda.  “He always preaches about ‘peace and progress with consensus and ‘force if it’s needed towards a brighter wizadring future in Britain’.  An aggressive, expansive foreign policy doesn’t fit in his ideology.  But even if he were to change his stance, he couldn’t pursue grand plans like this.  We just fought a war, our society is still recovering, not to mention that most of the countries around us have larger wizarding populations as well.  And the nargles wouldn’t go near him either, so he isn’t getting any icky-inspirations either!”  She nods earnestly once at her last sentence.

 

Hermione can’t help but look around the kitchen to gauge the other’s reactions to this concentrated Luna-ism.  Han’s eyebrows are furrowed, as if he can’t quite put his finger on how this odd woman works.  Hermione has to stifle a chuckle, because years-worth of exposure to Luna’s unique ways, still leaves her at expecting the unexpected and then still always be beautifully overwhelmed.  Narcissa’s fond smile directed at Luna surprises her, but not Harry’s.  Bellatrix looks back at Hermione with the most dumbfounded expression on her face, as if she were silently asking: ‘Is she for real?’.  Hermione just shrugs with her shoulder.  She can’t very well lie that one gets used to Luna over the time.

 

“This truly is great news!”  Hermione exclaims at last.  “I’m a bit relived truth to be told.”  She grins gratefully at Luna. 

 

Hermione slowly crosses her arms, turns her head, looks out of the window, but it’s obvious that she isn’t _seeing_ anything.  She appears to be mulling over her wayward thoughts.  After a while she speaks up:

 

“So his propaganda and illusions let everyone believe that the magical state is almighty, that they are in need of a charismatic leader, because when ‘uncontrolled masses’ try to govern the wizarding society, the situation always lead to a war.  Selach gives the illusion to people that he is going to change the wizarding society to prevent a future war.  In reality he only eliminates the threats to his own system, and conserves the existing social relationships and habits in order to stabilize his own power.”  She looks up questioningly at Narcissa and at Luna, when they both nod, she continues.  “I assume, he envisions the changes in the social structure through a revolution from above, which as we all know is never going to work.  Nevertheless he always must talk about ‘new order’ and ‘discipline’, and his so called solutions to all problems appear to be simple, so everybody can understand him.  It doesn’t matter that his ‘solutions’ are never going to work, he still gains a new political basis in the form of the unthinking masses.  To reserve them and chain them to his political agenda, Selach must be constantly emphasising his visions about a ‘people-centred magical community’.”  Here she again waits till the witches verify her assumptions, before she keeps going on.

 

“But a ‘people-oriented magical community’ in reality means only the total dissolve of an individual in the community itself, and the increase of fanatical belief in the leader.  Has he already made any mandatory social organisations based on ages and sex?”

 

“Not yet,” Narcissa answers, “but I heard that he is planning to.  I think he isn’t going to be able and reach out for children under the age of eleven since wizarding children are home schooled before Hogwarts.”

 

“I see.”  Hermione turns to Luna.  “What about newspapers, magazines?  What _exactly_ is he propagising?”

 

“Selach monopolized the Daily Prophet, that’s his mouthpiece.  He is advertising ‘happiness in being mediocre and simple’.”  Hearing this sentence coming out of Luna’s mouth has got to be one of Hermione’s most bizarre experiences.  But she doesn’t dare to interrupt Luna.    
“He says that the time for heroes is long gone, we don’t need dangerous, uncontrolled people like you, or somebody who was prophesised to be the one who ends order and brings the war on, that would be Harry, by the way.  So his ideal witch or wizard is humble, simple, silent, content and preferably doesn’t think, who enjoys the ‘controlled togetherness’, who isn’t perceiving themselves as an individual but as a part of the whole unit of society.”

 

“And exactly,” Narcissa continues, where Luna left off, ”this goal is served by Selach’s mass gatherings, festivals too.  The meaning of one person vanishes, the masses are fascinated by the displayed ‘united’ power and strength.”

 

Hearing this Hermione inhales deeply, closes her eyes, and rubs them tiredly.  Nobody speaks for a while.  Hermione walks slowly to her chair, plops down silently, and looks one by one at everyone.  When she meets Bellatrix’s gaze, she lingers and says.

 

“I have no idea what we could do.  Dictatorships like Selach’s has always ended in the muggle world with war, or went down because of catastrophic economical circumstances.  Now we have neither.  He isn’t going to begin a war, no other country’s magical community feels threatened by him, and if he is going to reassure them that his main goal is truly maintaining peace in a post war country, well then, nobody is going to attack him.  The economy is stable, it has been even during the war, and I don’t see any reasons how they couldn’t manage to keep it that way if they are reasonable enough, when it’s relative peace.”

 

Hermione turns her gaze to the table and begins to scratch the wood.

              
“As for revolution that could mean a third way to solve our problem, well let’s just say it isn’t going to happen.  Selach is way too clever to not cover every part of the wizarding society, to leave somebody out of his ‘ _consensus or force’_ politics.  Besides, if we assume that a _revolution is a spirit of public freedom_ then this automatically leads us to the realisation, that nobody is free who hasn’t experienced yet what public freedom is.  And to experience this you need to participate in public affairs.  Meaning that you can only be free, happy if you are going to engage in public matters, if you are going to take your own life in your hands, if you realise that this engagement alone is power too.  Sadly, Selach seems to notice this as well because who were the only ones in the wizarding political stage who were actively participating in public affairs, and as a result who could spread the _‘spirit of public freedom’?”_

_“_ The Death Eaters and us, the Order.”  Harry pipes up.

 

“Exactly Harry.  Everybody else was inactive, a part of the grey zone.  They have never tasted what freedom of action actually can mean.  As a result, there is no way, we are going to convince them of the benefits of a revolution.  Especially not after a war that made everyone bitter of fighting.”

 

The silence and hopelessness in the atmosphere following her words covers everyone in an almost visible, bitter-tasting greyness.

 

Until Bellatrix begins to write something hastily.  _Let’s not give into desperation.  Let’s plan how we are going to leave England.  Maybe on the other side we are going to see a solution that is hidden form us now._

She looks up, strangely enough, expectantly at Hermione.

 

“You are right.”  Says Hermione after a bit of contemplation.  “So far there has never been a situation we didn’t find our way out of, right?”  She smiles slightly then it turns to a full blown grin.  She glances at her still brooding best friend, eyes sparkling with mischief and she stage-whispers to Harry.  “Draaaaahhhgooooon!  Think of the dragon Harry!”

 

At this the three friends suddenly burst out laughing, while Han just rolls his eyes.  When he sees that Bellatrix and Narcissa don’t understand the joke, and the three are not going to be able to explain in the next few minutes, he simply says:

 

“The unique way they fled from Gringotts after stealing from your vault Ms. Black.”  Bellatrix shudders involuntary at the memory, thinking of her punishment after that fiasco.  Narcissa on the other hand just smiles.  _We need that never-giving-up-spirit right now._ She thinks.

When Hermione finally recovers, still brushing away her tears, she voices something that has been bothering her since last night.  “Luna told me that Selach has some kind of personal vendetta against both the Order and the Death Eaters, and that he is partly monitoring the muggle public transportation too.  But nothing more.  What do we know about him as person, about his background maybe?  And most importantly, about his connections to the muggle world?”

 

At this Luna and Narcissa look at each other hesitantly.  Until Narcissa speaks up.  “Nobody knows _actual_ facts about him.  Each and every one of his public appearances are carefully staged.  He always wears a white and red coloured metal mask that hides his face, and as such his true identity.  He claims that he was irrevocably injured on his face during the attack against his family.  When he holds one of his speeches during the mandatory mass gatherings, he always stays on a stage.  High above everyone else.  I’m positive that you see the symbolism behind this.  He is alone, ‘bearing all the burdens of the magical community’ on his own shoulders, but he constantly reaches out to ‘his people’, and precisely keeps up the illusion of the people-oriented aspect of his agenda.”

 

Narcissa sighs tiredly.

  
“I am not sure that these facts about his public image could answer your questions...  You see, any fact or document that could help his enemies to understand him better are classified, and he is actively trying to build a mysterious atmosphere around himself.  As a result nobody knows anything of importance about his person.”  Narcissa is clearly uncomfortable that she can’t satisfy Hermione’s curiosity, she is fidgeting a bit, untill her upbringing kicks in once again, and she hides all her emotions behind the cold and emotionless mask that became so infamous during her marriage.

 

Practically not knowing anything about Selach is another huge disadvantage.  Everybody in the room knows this, and slowly a hint of fear finds its way back to their hearts.  Nobody breaks the silence, they are just staring at each other.

 

Bellatrix fidgets in her chair, she worries her lip, rubs her left arm, rubs her palms against the table, until she finally picks her quill up.

              
This alone catches everybody’s attention.  And suddenly the little company is trying to move closer to read over her shoulders at what she is writing.

 

_He is a pure-blood, without any knowledge about the muggle world, but he has some muggle-born advisors.  Not enough to understand this world, or even to monitor it carefully, but enough to control strategic points in muggle transportation._

_He isn't going to move against muggles, or invade their world.  He wants to preserve the peace; and by this he means that he is going to do anything to keep the wizarding world hidden from them._

Everybody is staring disbelievingly at Bellatrix. But she just carries on writing.

 

_I believe Selach isn't his actual name, he changed it, another act to conceal his true identity.  He is a short, black haired, blue eyed man.  His determination rivals the Dark Lord’s, and he is just as cruel as him, he doesn't know mercy.  Once you are declared an enemy of him or his system, he is not going to stop until you are dead, because you could stand between him and his vision of a better world.  And he can't have that, can he?  He believes that he is doing good.  He isn't aiming for more personal power or immortality, but for a “better future”.  This is the exact reason why he is more dangerous than the Dark Lord has ever been.  He appears as a saviour, not a conqueror.  And in this case everything is about appearances._

By the time she finishes writing, and looks up at the others, Narcissa has tears in her eyes, and she is tightly pressing her right hand against her lips.  Nobody utters a word, until Hermione clears her throat and softly whispers.

 

“Bellatrix, how do you know this?”  Hermione looks at the witch uneasily, clearly dreading the answer.  Bellatrix just looks into her eyes, smiling sadly.  After a few long seconds she averts her eyes and writes.  _I met him._

Narcissa’s tears escape, she is shaking with the efforts not to sob outright.  One of her biggest fears, darkest suspicions just became real.

  
Luna stares at Bellatrix, the dreaminess in her eyes is overpowered by sadness.  She looks up at Hermione then back to Bellatrix.  She slowly reaches out, without taking her eyes from the two witches and pulls Narcissa in a one armed hug.  Narcissa buries her face in Luna’s neck, by now nothing else indicates her pain and self-hatred, but her silent tears and extremely tense posture.

  
Hermione never takes her gaze from Bellatrix, she sees as she appears to be smaller, setting that dot after those three words broke a dam.    
Bellatrix’s shoulders gradually fall forward, she pulls up her legs, hugging her knees to herself, she is nervously rubbing at her left arm, and by now she is violently shaking.

 

_He was the one who...?  Oh, Bellatrix..._

_  
_ Hermione recognises all the signs, she knows that by now the witch next to her is trapped in her memories, in a world where all of her rationality vanished, and fear has overpowered her whole mind.  Hermione wants to reach out, to show Bellatrix that she isn’t alone.

              
_If I could just make her notice another person’s presence who is waiting for her behind her fear, or rather on the other side of it...  But if I approach her now it might trigger an even more catatonic reaction.  She might think she is back at that place, and I am one of her tormentors-..._

Hermione’s inner debate comes to a sudden stop when Harry slams his hands against the table startling everybody else.

 

“I can’t believe this!”  He is angrily screaming at the top of his lungs.  He turns to Bellatrix, and is addressing her.  “You knew.  All this time, you knew!”

              
“Harry, stop it!”  Hermione anxiously says.  But he isn’t hearing Hermione any more.     

  
“Where is he?  Did you see what he does to his prisoners?  TELL US!”  He reaches out and grabs Bellatrix, roughly lifting her off of her chair, shaking her.

 

Hermione sees that by now Bellatrix is absolutely rigid, isn’t moving at all and her eyes are ... _vacant_?

 

_Shit, shit, shit!  She is losing it..._

She instantly draws her wand, steps between Bellatrix and Harry.

              
“Harry James Potter, unhand her, or I am going to hex you!”  To emphasise her words she presses her wand under his chin.  With her left hand she reaches out and holds Bellatrix by her waist, she steps a bit to the side, so her body partially covers Bellatrix.

 

Harry still isn’t letting go of Bellatrix’s robe, and now he screams at Hermione.  “You don’t understand!  You could never understand!”

              
Hannibal steps up behind him, putting his arm across Harry’s chest, he takes a hold around his neck, grabs Harry’s left arm, and bends it back.  He lifts Harry off of the ground and applies more pressure against his neck, just enough to let him snap out of his rage.

 

“Mr. Potter,” he says in a scarily calm voice, “I suggest you release Ms. Black this instant, and quit screaming.”

  
Harry lets Bellatrix go, and he immediately breaks down sobbing.  He whispers over and over again:  “You don’t understand.”  Han sits him down, and puts a hand on his shoulder in case he decides to do something foolish again.

 

Hermione catches Bellatrix and slides with the catatonic woman to the ground, still holding her around her waist.  She frantically asks Narcissa.  “Have you ever seen her like this?”

              
Narcissa is so shell-shocked that she can’t even answer verbally just shakes her head, fear and worry written on her face, her hand gripping Luna’s.

  
“Luna! Any ideas what to do?”

  
“She went to you last night when she couldn’t sleep.  You should talk to her.”  Luna ever so calmly states.

              
“How did you...?  Never mind.”

 

Hermione turns back to Bellatrix, she still hasn’t moved at all, she is staring at the floor, but she is obviously not seeing it.  The emptiness in her eyes sends a chill up Hermione’s spine, reminding her of Lestrange, her mind is instantly filled with memories of _that_ night.  Hermione too begins to tremble, and she feels like vomiting, she wants to run away and hide from this woman.

 

_This woman...  Not Lestrange, Bellatrix Black.  Lestrange doesn't exist anymore.  Deep breath..._

She slowly inhales, and forces herself to relax, to think clearly.

 

_It’s a coping mechanism.  She retreated into her mind, to some place where she feels safe, or where she could tune everything else out.  She is not going to snap out of it alone, the fear surrounding that place is too much for her to bear.  Or rather the fear from this fear, because she has already...  That’s it!_

She shifts, so she is kneeling and Bellatrix is lying on her thighs, the witch’s dark brown, empty eyes are directed now to the ceiling.  Hermione glances at them, and she feels her heartbeat quicken, the first signs of fear returning.  She quickly leans down, buries her face in Bellatrix’ unruly dark brown hair, so she doesn’t have to see her face.  She puts her left arm around Bellatrix’ abdomen, her right hand is at the nape of her neck, so she can hold her head up, while she whispers in her ear.

 

“Bellatrix, this is Hermione Granger, I am the one holding you.  You are at my brother’s house.  You are safe now, I promise.  I know you are afraid, I understand that, trust me, but here nobody is going to hurt you, we are waiting for you, we are not going to judge you, you don’t have to tell us anything, we are not going to push you.  You have already defeated your fears at least once, when you got away from that place...”

 

There still isn’t any response from Bellatrix, which slowly makes Hermione desperate.

 

_Think, think, what else...  What do I find helpful when I-... Details!_

She softly takes Bellatrix’s hand, puts her palm down to the ground and whispers again.  “Do you feel the coldness against your hand?  Concentrate on that.  You are lying on the kitchen floor, it’s tiled.”  She moves Bellatrix’s hand.  “Do you feel the unevenness?  It’s a motif.  A special one, it’s called Moroccan.  The colours are blue and white.  And since now it’s early in the morning, the sun makes the blues sparkle in different, richer shades than usual.”

 

Before she can search for something else to ramble about, she sees that Bellatrix’s posture changed, and she feels but doesn’t hear that Bellatrix takes a deep breath.

 

_Finally._

She slowly leans back to look at the witch, but Bellatrix sits up suddenly, and grabs both of Hermione’s arms.

  
The sudden movement which results in practically being held down by _this_ woman, makes all of Hermione’s uneasiness around Bellatrix, and her fears that she until now barely managed to hold at bay, come back tenfold.  All her rational thoughts are vanished, she can’t even look at _her_.  She is terrified that she might see _those_ eyes from _that_ night again, the night of her torture.          
She closes her eyes and she feels that she is about to hyperventilate.

              
Bellatrix notices this luckily and quickly lets her go.  Hermione barely has time to turn away from her before she vomits.  She slowly begins to recognise her surroundings, her breathing slows down, as she slumps against the kitchen furniture.  She closes her eyes and forces herself to calm down.

_She is not her.  Not her.  Think._

Luna quickly scourgifies the floor, and gives Hermione a glass of water.  Hermione gratefully takes it, and slowly sips.

 

Nobody says a word.  Narcissa still has tears in her eyes, but now she is looking at Hermione.  Luna stands next to her friend, but she doesn’t reach out to her, she knows better.  Harry stares at the table, behind him Han wears a painful, worried expression.  He knows that something terrible happened to his sister during the war.  Bellatrix just stands in the corner, hugging herself and her gaze is strictly directed at her shoes.

 

Hermione pushes herself up, clears her throat and breaks the silence.  “Han, it really was an excellent idea to have a tiled floor in the kitchen.”

 

It’s clear, she doesn’t want to talk about what happened.  She turns to Harry and asks in a tired, weak voice.  “What were you thinking Harry?”

              
He looks up at his best friend.  Hermione is still pale, she is slightly trembling, and she is unconsciously brushing her fingers against her tattoo on her left forearm, where once _the_ scar was.  He lifts his gaze, so he can look Hermione in the eyes.

 

“I am so sorry.”  Harry sadly whispers at last.  “Just...what if she had seen something that could help us get Ginny back?  I... I miss her so much.”  With his quiet and broken last sentence he seems to have aged years.

  
“Oh, Harry...”  In a situation like this, there is nothing Hermione could say, so she doesn’t even try.  “Just don’t do anything like that again.  You can’t force somebody in her situation to open up.  You have to give them time, to wait for them.  They are the ones who have to take the first steps.”  She doesn’t even realise that she is talking in plural or that she is moving her fingers against her arm faster.

 

Harry just leans back tiredly, without saying anything, Han plops down on a chair next to him.  Luna and Narcissa turn to each other, a sad, knowing looks are on their faces.

 

Hermione shifts, so she is facing Bellatrix.  She steels herself, exhales slowly then addresses her.  “Bellatrix?”  Once she looks up, Hermione continues.  “Come here please.”  Bellatrix slowly walks up to her, the expression on her face is so lost, and... _cautious_?

 

Hermione knows what is coming.  She offers her hand, Bellatrix takes it, and her mind is instantly filled with that soft whispering voice.

 

_'I am so so sorry.  I didn't mean to...'_

Hermione doesn’t let her finish the sentence.

              
“It’s alright, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.  For this you don’t have to apologise.”

  
Bellatrix visibly relaxes a bit, but she still appears to be lost.

 

 _Like I didn't know that place..._ Hermione thinks uneasily.

  
Hermione hesitates a bit, but after a deep breath she pulls Bellatrix closer to her, and gently hugs her.  Bellatrix instantly returns it, and buries her face in Hermione’s neck.  Hermione turns her head slightly, so she can whisper in Bellatrix’s ear, she doesn’t want the others to hear her.

 

“I know this seams unbelievable right now, but trust me.  With time we are going to be all right...  Well, as all right as we can get, but let’s make the best out of it, shall we?”

  
With this she puts her chin on the smaller woman’s head, and feels Bellatrix pressing more tightly against her.  Bellatrix shifts a bit, so she can brush her fingers against Hermione’s bare left arm.

 

_'Thank you.  For, for earlier, and for this.  For everything.'_

“Don’t mention it.”  She hugs her a bit stronger before she releases her.  She looks down at the Bellatrix, and asks her.  “So, what do you say?”  She brushes her fingers against Bellatrix’s, indicating that she wants to hear a ‘verbal’ answer.

              
' _Yes, we are going to fight this fear.  We are not going to let those experiences define us.  And eventually we are going to move on as much as we can.'_

Hermione offers her a small smile.

  
“Well that’s the spirit.”

  
With that they both turn back to the others.  Who are looking at them in different states of shock or disbelief.

 

Hermione lifts her eyebrow.

              
_What is it now?_

              
Before she even could voice her thoughts, Narcissa blurts out.  “You, you...you can talk?”

 

Seeing the bewildered look Hermione gives her, she snaps out of her stupor, and hastily elaborates.  “What I meant to ask is, how is it that you can communicate with Bellatrix as if she were actually verbally answering you?”

  
“Because she is.  Well sort of.”  Narcissa just stares at her, not even batting an eyelash, and Hermione looks back at Bellatrix a bit confused.

  
“Luna,” Harry draws her name out before continuing, “…that sounded awfully like your language, would you please translate?”  At this Hermione snaps her head back, takes a deep breath and is about to launch a full speech about manners, rudeness and male entitlement when Luna quips.           
“I can still see the colours around Bellatrix.”

  
At this Harry turns his face to the ceiling and lifts his hands, in a non-verbal, ‘I give up’ then he looks at Narcissa.  He must admit, there really are just a few things that manage to make Narcissa lose her composure.  Right now, she merely lifts her eyebrow, as if it were every day that she hears ‘colours’ levitating around her sister.

 

“You can sense magical signatures.”  Narcissa states.

              
Luna dreamily looks at her.  “Yes, and Hermione too.  Your sister’s is shattered, but even in the splinters, or ruins of it, they are surprisingly strong.  She isn’t able to do magic on her own, but...”

  
“I see.”  Narcissa interrupts her.  “I have never thought of something like this before.  Fascinating.”  And at this moment Narcissa Black, the former ice queen out right grins.

 

Hermione’s expression rapidly changes, and she asks.  “Wait, you mean to say, that you have never...”

  
“No, never...” Narcissa is still grinning, and proving, that yes, there are situations where even a proper lady of her social standing is allowed or even downright must do something as improper as grinning.       

  
“But this means that...”

              
This time Luna is the one who interrupts Hermione.  “Yes.”

              
Hermione just rubs her chin and murmurs an.  “Interesting.”

 

At this moment Harry just simply has to speak up.  “No, never mind my little Quidditch-loving simple self.  I am just going to lean back, and enjoy the rest of my breakfast, because following the conversation of three, I mean four brilliant witches, is just really not my cup of tea...”

 

Hermione smiles at him, and explains.  “Bellatrix can talk to me because her remaining magic is still strong enough to come up with a solution for the loss of her verbal abilities.  She is projecting her thoughts to me.  Imagine it as a different, reverse Legilimency.”

 

Here Narcissa takes over talking.  “Important to note is that her magic is too ruined to do something like this voluntarily.  Emotions, feelings always strengthen magic, even the involuntary or accidental magic.  She can only communicate with Hermione, because the two of them are...linked so to speak.”

 

 _Ah, so she really is sincere, and regrets what she has done to Hermione._ Harry thinks.

 

“I told you Harry, I can see the colours.”  With that Luna once again begins to hum.

 

Everybody looks at Bellatrix, who nervously fidgets under the attention, and she subconsciously steps closer to Hermione.  Hermione however is eyeing an apple, she grabs a green one out of the basket, leans back against the counter, crosses her legs at her ankles, and simply says.  “I have an idea how we could leave England.”

 

With that she bites heartily into the fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am editing, cleaning up this story, while I am also working on the next update. Yes, I haven't forgotten about Wanted. I do work on it.  
> This is the last edited chapter, the others haven't been touched in 3 years. The style might be slightly different from here on, but the plot and characterisation themselves haven't changed.  
> /spring 2016/


	5. The Search, the Plan, the Scare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the process of cleaning up this story, before I post the next chapter. The first four chapters are already edited, but beginning from this one on, I haven't touched the story in 3 years, the style is slightly different.  
> /spring 2016/

**Chapter 5 – The Search, the Plan, the Scare**

“We are going to hide in plain sight!”

 

With this Hermione walks to the table, sits down, her lips curving up slightly in a self-satisfied smile.  She scans the table to find something to eat, seemingly not noticing the strange looks she is getting from the others, as if her sole sentence could offer an absolutely satisfying explanation.

 

She snatches a croissant from Han’s plate, gleefully and quickly biting it at both ends, so he wouldn’t take it back then she just smiles at him, while Han sticks his tongue out at her.  Narcissa merely lifts an eyebrow at Hermione’s antics.  After Harry spitting his tea across the table this morning, she very much doubts that the ‘Golden Duo’ could do anything to prove to her they have acceptable manners.

 

_On the other hand, these three young adults are quite entertaining, refreshing even, after living in wizarding high society for decades...  They are so different from my Draco._

Narcissa can’t help, but pick up her mug again to hide her smile behind it.  She sips at her tea, and waits for Hermione to begin her explanation.  Her eyes wander around the room, and land on her sister.  Bellatrix is looking out of the window, a thoughtful, faraway expression on her face, her posture is still slightly defensive.  Her arms are crossed, she is standing very stiff.   
Hermione notices the worried look on Narcissa’s face, so she turns slightly to see Bellatrix.

 

 _It is almost ironic how perfectly this situation symbolises her life.  She is in the same room with us, yet she is isolated, she can't communicate directly with anybody but me._ The young witch looks closely at the brown haired woman and sees as her arms tighten round her.  _She is closing up, again...I can't let her do that, especially not after what happened earlier...  If today’s events so far indicate anything, then the fact that just how wrong we both were._ She thinks bitterly, as she drops her gaze to the floor.  _We both can't leave this behind us, no matter how hard we are trying, not when we are trying to do it alone.  It seems that we both reached the furthest point in our recovery that we can, but that still is a far cry from regaining any kind of balance or normalcy.  We want to live, we want to move on, yet fear still controls us.  We are so broken, if we close up, we can never regain our life, a real one...  Nobody knows this, nobody knows just how close, or far for that matter, we are from the edge._

Hermione looks up again at Bellatrix, she seems even more withdrawn.  She hesitates just a bit before addressing the witch.  “Bellatrix?”

             
She doesn’t move, nothing indicates that she heard Hermione in the first place.

             
_Not good, not good at all!_

             
Out of the corner of her eye she sees that Harry is about to say something, but closes his mouth quickly when Luna puts her hand on his arm and shakes her head lightly.  Hermione knows that she has to physically approach the witch, so she closes her eyes briefly, steels herself, and with three steps stands in front of the older woman.

 

_It’s going to be all right, just look her in the eye.  That person doesn't exist anymore._

Hermione tilts her head slightly, so she can see those dark brown orbs better, and is instantly stunned by the myriad of emotions she can see there.  She inhales sharply, and forces herself not to step back, she is always taken by surprise when she witnesses just how expressive Bellatrix’s eyes have become.

 

_She isn't closing up, she is just too lost in thought...  Thankfully._

             
Hermione braces herself and hesitantly lifts her hand, lightly tapping the woman on her shoulder.  This of course makes Bellatrix jerk, she snaps out of her thoughts, but her sudden movement in turn makes Hermione jump back.  They both stare at each other for long moments.  The young witch takes a few shaky breaths, she is uncomfortable around Bellatrix, but somehow she still manages to maintain her composure, plus her infamous curiosity is peaked too.  So she slowly steps up to the witch and asks her quietly.

 

“What is on your mind Bellatrix?”

             
Her gaze never leaves the witch’s face, but she knows everybody in the kitchen is closely paying attention.  Bellatrix bites her bottom lip, her brows are furrowed, she looks at Hermione, at the table and then again back at the young woman.

             
_She doesn't want the others to hear, or rather be able to read, what she wants to say._ She wordlessly offers her hand and takes another step.  Now she is standing very close, exactly in front of the older woman, her taller figure effectively sheltering Bellatrix from everybody else’s view.

 

Bellatrix lifts her head, looks in Hermione’s eyes, as if she were searching for something, she then slowly brushes her fingers against the Gryffindor’s hand, but she still hesitates and looks down again.  Hermione tilts her head down, so she can look into those dark brown orbs, squeezes the older woman’s hand and intertwines their fingers.  This shocks Bellatrix, she looks up, eyes opened wide in wonder and begins to ‘talk’.

 

_'Uh, um...it’s, it’s...'_

Hearing this, the slightest smile graces Hermione’s features.  _She stammers in her thoughts.  Bellatrix Black stammers in her thoughts and the Earth is still rotating._ The witch must have come to a similar conclusion, because her cheeks are deep red with embarrassment, she furrows her brows once again, and ‘says’ confidently.

 

_'You said we are not going to let these experiences define us.  I don't want this fear, experience, my memories to overpower me either, and I promised you not to let them, but how am I fighting for something that I don't know?  I mean who am I?  How could I define myself without my magic?  What is the ‘me’ part in the not letting them define us?'_

Hermione sighs heavily, the desperation in that soft whispering voice in her head, the anguish in Bellatrix’s eyes make it clear that she needs to give her some sort of an answer however  unanswerable the question is to begin with.

 

She takes a few seconds to gather her thoughts then she leans forward and whispers directly in Bellatrix’s ear, so nobody else could hear them.

 

“Look, I know how important is to be able to try understanding yourself, but I think there is a difference between identifying and defining.  The former you can choose for yourself, the latter is pseudo-knowledge about you that was forced upon you by the outside world, like your family, the society you grew up in, or just people altogether who need to put you in a box and give you a label without even knowing the actual you.”

 

“Sadly, our experiences, the fear that was inflicted upon us, the fear that still lingers has great power to define us, it could easily ruin and corrupt us, steal our freedom and banish our clear state of mind.  If right now you are not able to fight for you then fight for the opportunity to get to know you, for the possibility of discovering yourself.”

 

Here she gently squeezes their still intertwined hands.

 

“I know that losing your magical abilities must have been like the ground itself has been stolen out from under you, but try to look at it as an opportunity for a new beginning.  Like you have done so far!     Until recently you were nothing more than the role you played on the dark side of the war based on your magical abilities.  You were a murderer, a soulless soldier, His first lieutenant, a crazed witch.  These were the labels that defined you.”

 

She can feel that each of these words causes Bellatrix to flinch, like she was actually hit.  So Hermione hurriedly continues, before the older woman could step away.

 

“But now that, among others, the loss of your magical abilities opened your eyes, and so drastically changed you, all the previously defined truths were shattered as well.  You can have a new beginning, without anybody pushing you to become something.  If you think about it this way, this indicates that you have a long way ahead of you, many, many things to discover, to understand what previously was hidden from you.  On this path you might find splinters which gathered together at some point in your life might just show you what exactly is behind the ‘me’ as you think of yourself.”

 

She takes a deep breath and whispers, voice laced with determination.  “This time around you can choose how you identify yourself, what you are, this time around you can be freer than ever.”

 

She feels Bellatrix relax a bit and lean closer to her as if she didn’t want to miss any of her words.  Hermione knows that by now her voice betrays her slight smile, but somehow she is beyond caring.  After all she is partly saying this for herself too, not just for Bellatrix.

 

“My advice is:  try not to put yourself in boxes, don’t put labels on you, question everything always, don’t just accept truths.  If you want to begin on your journey, take small and simple steps, even if they look ridiculous.  Like you could say, you are a human being who has a sister, and you can go on from there.”

 

_Hmm, saying these thoughts out loud do make me feel a tad bit silly.  Nevertheless it needs to be done._

“My experience says that you have to stay open to any possibilities.  Midnight swims and rambling conversations do tend to help a lot.  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow so to speak, but we are going to talk about this more.  Until then, don’t forget you are not alone.”

 

With this she steps back somewhat, but she doesn’t release Bellatrix’s hand.  She knows that her small smile still lingers on her face.  She looks in Bellatrix’s eyes, and again she is amazed by their expressiveness.  For a moment she just stares at her in wonder.

 

The brown haired witch appears as if she has so much to say, she didn’t even know where to begin.  But she knows, there are times when you can say more with your silence than with any of your words.  Her intense gaze never leaves Hermione’s lighter brown one, Bellatrix slowly, deliberately moves her free hand, giving the younger woman time to shy away.  But Hermione just tilts her head to the side, crocking an eyebrow, her small smile still playing on her lips, clearly she is beyond curious as to what the older woman is up to.  Bellatrix takes her other hand too, squeezes both of Hermione’s, and the young witch can hear two words when that soft whispering voice ghosts in her mind.

 

_'Thank you.'_

This is the first time that they share a smile, albeit somewhat shy and small ones.

 

“Don’t mention it.  Now, let’s take a seat and make some plans!”

 

The bushy haired witch doesn’t even wait for Bellatrix’s answer.  She steps away, takes a place at the table, leaving a chair for Bellatrix, so the older woman can sit between her sister and her.  By the time Bellatrix flops down, Hermione is already scanning the table.  She grabs two mugs, pours hot chocolate in both of them and wordlessly, without even looking at her, offers one to the now visibly relaxed and still softly smiling brunette.

 

After the first few sips Hermione contently leans back in her chair.  The taste makes her close her eyes and grin, she even softly begins to hum, not bothering that she is beyond extremely off-key... well until she notices the deafening silence in the room.

 

She looks up and sees everybody curiously staring at her, the seriousness and wonderment in their eyes are tell-tale signs that they want to know what her conversation with Bellatrix was about.

  
Everybody but Narcissa, she is softly smiling.  When Hermione uneasily glances at the blond witch, sending her a slightly pleading look, Narcissa understands at once, and speaks up before anybody else could approach that topic.

 

“Hermione, am I assuming correctly that your brother is the more musical one in your family?”  Her soft smile gradually morphs into a teasing one, but her tone remains polite, as always, after all a witch of her status must be proper in all situations.

 

_And this was her diplomatic way to say that I suck._

By now the others are smiling or giggling, the mood clearly has shifted.  Hermione sends a grateful look at the blond, and plays along.

 

“Please, I am not that bad!”

 

At this Narcissa just politely turns her head, as if she is trying to cover her amusement, Luna just coughs, so she doesn’t comments.  Harry on the other hand lets out a full-blown belly laugh.

 

Han puts his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, pats her slightly mockingly.  “Sister dear, I don’t mean to offend you, but in those approximately 27 seconds you all out redefined the so far from human kind known depths of horrible.”

 

Everybody, including Hermione, is laughing, Harry even has to dry his tears.  When Hermione calms down a bit, she looks to the side and observes Bellatrix with a somewhat morbid fascination.

 

 _There is absolutely no sound coming from her._ The witch’s head is tilted back, her eyes tightly shut, a huge smile stretching across her features, she is obviously laughing.  But the silence envelops her.  _This is an almost scary, but definitely bizarre sight.  And I am not even referring to her teeth...  Well, those really are scary.  My mother would faint if she saw her.  Well if she had her memories about being an actual dentist._ Hermione knows that _this_ is the point where she _has_ to snap out of her inner musings.

 

So she sticks her tongue out at Han for good measure, and finishes her drink, till everybody calms down.

 

“So what was this hiding in plain sight?”  At his third attempt Harry manages to tone down his chuckles enough so everybody else could understand him.

 

Hermione squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, her determination is almost visible in the air.  She lifts her brow and practically stares Harry down.

 

 _Uh-oh.  The no-nonsense_ and _the game-is-on face!  Uh-oh, indeed...  But she said muggle transport, so that means, no dragon, but still..._ The young man sobers up abruptly and wearily looks at his best friend.  When he sees Hermione’s smirk, he out right goes pale.

 

Narcissa is thoroughly amused by this interaction, she isn’t even trying to hide it, and when Bellatrix looks questioningly at her, she just smiles at her sister.  Luna seems unfazed, as if she has always known that the war might turn the sometimes socially awkward, slightly bossy, bushy haired bookworm into a cunning, certainly scary at times, still bossy but abso-bloody-lutely bright young woman, whose state of hair nobody cares about anymore.  Han on the other hand is deep in thought, staring at the parchment and ink previously used by Bellatrix, not even noticing what is going on in the kitchen.

 

“We have already come to the conclusion that we are going to leave the country the muggle way with muggle disguises.”  Hermione begins her explanation without even taking a breath during her first sentence.  She suddenly turns to Narcissa.

 

“I say we find Draco first, he is the son of a very influential magical family in exile.  I am certain he is going to have important connections, and if I am not mistaken he is most likely playing some kind of role in the political field too.  He must have taken measures...”  She murmurs the last part of her sentence to herself, nobody can understand her.  She is silent for a few moments, her gaze is directed at something over Narcissa’s shoulder that nobody sees but her.  Then she suddenly speaks up, again looking at Narcissa.  “Besides, you want to find him.  We...” she gestures at her friends,  “are everything we have left.  We aren’t looking for anybody. Just....” her voice drops to a whisper,  “hoping to meet people who could aid us.  However...” she again straightens up in her chair,  “this leads to my question.”  She pauses, takes a deep breath, and locks her gaze onto Narcissa’s, searching those deep blue eyes for something.  “Do you know where Draco is?  Where to find him?”

 

“No.”  Narcissa’s ice queen mask is once again slipping back in place, she moves her hand flat against the surface of the table, as if she were trying to plane out the wood even more.  It’s obvious that the blonde witch is insecure, and maybe even a bit afraid.

 

Seeing this Bellatrix tentatively reaches out, and awkwardly pats her sister on her hand.  The brown haired witch is still re-learning or discovering the importance of small gestures.  Her movements indicate that she is trying to be reassuring but she is not entirely sure how to do so.  In the last thirty years she didn’t have to offer something like this, and now there are situations where she has no idea what she should do.  But she wants to be there for her sister, she wants to try.

 

Hermione sees this, and she sees how the witch is furrowing her brow, as if she could force her awkwardness away with sheer concentration.  Hermione feels a smile tugging at her lips _._

_Unbelievable...  This...is Bella Black..._ She playfully rolls her eyes, but she has already decided what she is going to do.  She inhales, keeps the air in her lungs, clenches and unclenches her fists a few times then she slowly slips her hand into Bellatrix’s free one under the table.

 

The older woman looks at her shocked, her expression could make Hermione giggle, if she weren’t concentrating that hard on keeping her calm façade up, fighting the trembling and uneasiness that the brunette’s proximity is causing.  Hermione just looks back into those expressive brown eyes, briefly averts her eyes to their joined hands then looks over where Bellatrix is still patting her sister’s hand on the table.

 

Bellatrix gets the message, takes Narcissa’s hand into hers and when she feels Hermione’s squeeze her left, she mimics the action to her sister’s, her eyes never leaving the blonde’s face, hopefully searching for any signs that she did well and managed to reassure her sister.

 

When Narcissa’s expression softens and sends a small smile to Bellatrix, the witch _visibly_ but soundlessly exhales and leans back into her chair.  Hermione moves to pull her hand back, but Bellatrix tugs at it a bit and she ‘says’ without looking at the young witch.

 

_'They say that the N.E.W.T.s are supposed to be challenging.  Well let me tell you those exams are nothing compared to moments like these...Pffff...'_

Hermione snorts, looks down, so her hair can hide her smile.  _Who would have thought that she can be amusing too?  I bet not even her own sister..._ She feels again Bellatrix’s hand tighten around hers, and immediately her mind is filled with that voice.

 

_'Thank you Hermione.'_

She lets the young woman’s hand go and picks up her mug, finishing her chocolate.  Hermione notices that Narcissa is now looking at her, when their eyes meet, the blonde sends her a grateful smile.  Hermione clears her throat and continues, as if nothing has happened.

 

“Narcissa, you aren't telling us something.”

 

“I really don’t know where my son is.  But...we came up with a plan, we arranged hints, pointers for each other, that would lead us to another location, and so on until we meet.  The first contact is in Paris, and then...”  She makes a non-committal movement with her hand, and let’s her words die before finishing the sentence.

 

“Hmm...  That is actually a very clever idea.  All right, Paris it is.”  Hermione smiles up at the others.  “Today we are going to sort out our disguises, buy anything we might need, take the pictures...  That reminds me,” she turns to face Han, “do you think we could pick up the passports tomorrow or perhaps even tonight?”  When he nods, she continues deep in thought.

 

“This means that, we are going to travel somehow to another town, and get on a train to Paris there.  I thought of other muggle means of transport too, but flying is out of question, and I get sick on the bus.”  She looks up embarrassedly.  “On a train we have a great advantage compared to cars, there will be a mass of travellers which could easily help us go unnoticed, and if something goes wrong, we would have plenty of room to flee.”  She looks at the others and asks.  “What do you think?”

 

“No dragons, count me in!”  Harry smiles teasingly at Hermione.

 

“Honestly Harry!  Am I ever going to live that down?  I saved our butts and freed a suffering magical creature in the process!  I rather think it was a good idea after all.  Admittedly stealth and subtlety aren’t my forte but...”

 

At this the young adults, except Hermione dissolve into fits of giggles.

 

“Destroying a bank, flying over London on a 30m long dragon, jumping off of it while mid-flight, falling about 15m, landing in an icy Scottish lake, yes, you my dear friend are anything but subtle.”

 

At this Luna, Harry and Han snigger again, which only makes Hermione huff even more.

 

“Oh but Mr. Potter you must admit, my sister does have style.  That wasn’t a simple act of leaving a place, oh no!”  Here Han rather melodramatically pauses and lifts his hand to his chest in a teasing gesture.  “No.  This style begs for French!  My fellow guests, I say, from this day on we shall call the fleeing from Gringotts simply, _départ au dragon_!”

 

Before the laughing trio could rile Hermione up more, or the witch could actually reach her brother to slap him on the shoulder, Narcissa cuts in.

 

“I agree with your reasoning Hermione.  And you are right, we should leave as soon as possible.  Our fight yesterday, no matter how careful we have been, could have already alerted the Blue Jackets that something isn’t in order here in Oxford.  How do you plan on getting to another town?  And what exactly is your idea with hiding in plain sight?”  Narcissa nudges her still chuckling sister, and when she sees how reluctant Bellatrix is to calm down, she playfully rolls her eyes, trying to mask her own amusement.  The barely noticeable smile on her lips shows that she is grateful to see her sister smiling and laughing.

 

“Thank you Narcissa.”  Hermione sends her brother her infamous glare, silently stating that he is still going to get a rant about teasing his own sister.  Then she turns back to the witch.

 

“We have to take Han’s car.  Since Oxford isn’t on the direct rail line to Paris.  Getting on the train in London is out of question, the only other station we could use, and where it stops is Ashford.”  She worries her lips and looks a bit concernedly at Luna.

 

“Luna said, charms scanning magical signature are only placed around the biggest stations of the largest cities.  Ashford isn’t one of the 100 largest settlements in the UK, and its magical population is extremely small too, since it’s far from main magical strongholds such as the Ministry or Hogwarts.  Plus there are several traditionally magical villages, similar to Godric’s Hollow, in the area, which are preferred by witches and wizards over the city crowded by masses of muggles.  But nevertheless Ashford lies at the crossroad of nearly all main muggle means of transport.  As a result, I doubt that there are going to be scanning charms, but the presence of Blue Jackets will be strong at the station...”

 

“Yes, you assumed right Hermione, the only charms at the station in Ashford are Polyjuice, Glamour, and Magical Body Modification detection and reversing ones.  But you have to know that several Blue Jackets are going to be present on the train too, and once we leave the border, they are going to check everybody dressed as the muggle police, since the border too is charmed to detect magical disguises.”  Luna dreamily says while once again eyeing those yellow flowers.  Her words however seem to freeze everybody else for a few moments.

 

“And now I’m guessing this is the part where we finally get to know what you meant by your statement and how exactly you plan to change us...”  Harry was just as impatient as ever looks at Hermione.

 

“Right.  After the war and because of our role in the wizarding community...” here she glances at Narcissa, “practically all of wizarding England knows our faces.  Not to mention that almost all of us are on the List, so we have to be extremely cautious.”  Here she pauses just to egg Harry on a bit then she continues with a mischievous glint in her eye.

 

“We all have typical characteristics that would easily tell our identity, so we just let them vanish or change them into the opposite, that’s all.”

 

Hermione grins at the incredulous looks she is getting, she can almost hear the question mirrored on everybody’s faces.  ‘Seriously? This is it?’  She sighs and knows she has to be a bit more specific.

 

“Wait, let me give you an example.  Look at Narcissa...” said witch just crocks her eyebrow but her face remains passive under the close attention, “if we put her in a pair of jeans and some type of blouse, dye her hair, that still wouldn’t be enough.  Because of the way she carries herself.  Her movements are always graceful, her whole behaviour is proper, prudent, polite, she expresses herself carefully, when she walks in a room, the mood shifts because she has this aristocratic charisma.”

 

Hermione is looking at her friends and gesticulating with her hands, emphasising her arguments.  But when she says her last sentence she glances back at the blonde witch, and with reddening cheeks she adds.  “I didn’t mean to offend you in any way, you were brought up in high society, you behave accurately to that, I didn’t intend to judge you...”

 

Narcissa smiles slightly at her.  “Hermione, you merely stated facts, however if this makes you feel less uncomfortable then please know that no offence is taken.”

 

The Gryffindor faces her friends again, lifting her eyebrow, wordlessly saying.  ‘See what I am talking about?’  She turns back to the blonde, nods, accepting her words then states her opinion.  “I believe I have made my point.  It isn’t going to be enough to change into muggle cloths, and dye our hair, we have to plan exactly our act too, and according to this we should choose different styles of muggle clothing.  Let’s gather the most obvious about ourselves and create our new personalities for this ride to Paris!”  By this point Hermione is grinning widely, which in turn again makes Harry slightly uneasy.

 

“Why don’t we begin with Narcissa?”  Luna asks.  “Hermione has already said a few words. Let’s see...” the Ravenclaw thoughtfully looks at the blonde, hums for a few moments then simply says.  “You are aloof, as your social standing requires, although now that Bellatrix has turned into Bella you smile more and are more open about showing your emotions.  You always appear impeccable...”

 

Here Harry cuts in.  “Loosen up!”  He apologetically looks at Luna.

 

Hermione decides to speak up, before Narcissa draws her wand and shows the bespectacled boy just how _loose_ she is when it’s about hexing impolite hot-headed Gryffindors.

             
“Narcissa?  What we mean to say is that you probably have to work on your body language to be as unladylike as possible.”  When she sees the disbelieving look the blonde gives her, she hurriedly continues.  “Don’t worry, once we leave the station in Paris you can be yourself again, but for now we have to pretend that we are somebody else.  You are too easily recognisable.”

 

Narcissa sighs then says.  “You have my consent.  If I am not mistaken, you might have some suggestions...”

 

Hermione smiles at her encouragingly.  _Whatever we are going to do, it has to be an excellent act, our lives depend on those few hours._ She carefully observes the older witch.

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.  Change your body language, look at your sister.  You have to appear careless, and absolutely at ease, forget about straight back, proper position to sit, stand etc...  And most of all, Luna is right, let your emotions show.  Plus express yourself in a more simple way.  Recall the way simple average, boring wizards and witches talk, you heard them in Diagon Alley or at the Leaky Cauldron.  Also, feel free to be rude, we are going to forgive you.”

 

Narcissa has an almost pained expression on her face, her lips are pressed in a tight line, and she almost appears disgusted at the thought that she has to carry herself like an average witch without any proper upbringing.

 

Seeing this, Bellatrix breaks out in a heartfelt but absolutely soundless laugh.  She is clutching at her stomach, nearly falling out of her chair.  Her amusement makes everybody else smile, apart from Narcissa who glares at her annoyed.

 

“Thank you for your support sister.” But when she sees the warmth in Bellatrix’s eyes, she softens instantly.

 

“You are a Black Narcissa, you can do it.”

             
Hearing her own voice even shocks Hermione herself.  _Who would have thought two days ago, that I was going to sit in my kitchen with the Black sisters, tolerating one and cheering the other one to be more laid back?  If reality isn't a constant slap in your face..._

Somehow Hermione says the only right thing that could have moved Narcissa.  The blonde lifts her chin, her determination is almost radiating from her.  She does know the consequences if one of them happens to fail in their act during the ride to Paris.

 

She concentrates, and slowly her shoulders slump forward.  She leans back in an absolutely careless way, she tilts her head to the ceiling and folds her hands on the nape of her neck.  She sighs audibly, and taking a leaf from Luna’s book, she begins to hum.  When the thought crosses her mind, what Draco would say if he saw her like this, well she can’t help but chuckle.

 

Apart from Han everybody stares at her dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape.  To see prim and proper Narcissa Black in a position like this could be compared to the mental image of a well shaved Albus Dumledore in a black muggle suit.  Un-be-lie-va-ble!  Hermione finally snaps out of her stupor, and faces her brother.

 

“You heard us, she is a member of the wizarding nobility so to speak, and she always behaves aristocratically.  This is the image everybody in the wizarding world knows about her.  What do you think, which muggle style would be the best disguise for her?”

 

“Best way to hide an aristocrat...  Hmm, what do you think about the free spirits of the 60s sister dear?”  Han right out grins at his sister.

 

Hermione grins back.  “Oh, that’s simply brilliant!”

 

“You can’t be serious?  Her as a hippy?”  Harry dissolves in a fit of laughter.  After a while he says.  “Actually I have to agree, that would be perfect!  Ohhh, Hermione I am so happy to be your friend!”  They smile at each other then the young woman turns to the other three witches to explain.

 

“Basically think of the hippies as a movement in the muggle society, they wanted to tear down social expectations, and change the world, to make it a better place, well most of them at least.  Mostly students were involved, who abhorred anything considered conservative at that time.  They were liberal and aimed for social justice and redistribution.  As you can see, a façade like this would be truly perfect to hide you behind Narcissa.”  Said witch looks extremely warily at Hermione, but nods nevertheless.

 

“And what about her appearance?”  Harry asks.

 

“Well, since she is a blue eyed blonde, let’s turn her into a green eyed brunette.  Han, do you know somebody, who sells...” Hermione pretends not to notice how horrified Narcissa looks at the possibility of losing her blonde locks, and turns fully to her brother, but before she even could finish her sentence, he cuts in.

 

“Yes, of course, that won’t be a problem, not even for Mr. Potter.”

 

“Excellent.”  She looks at her friends and the sisters.  “I know you have questions, and I am going to explain everything later, but now let’s finish discussing this.”  When she sees them reluctantly nod, she continues.

 

“Alright, Luna, you are next.”  Hermione carefully eyes the Ravenclaw’s extremely colourful and mismatching muggle cloths, her radish earrings, and several... _things_ she wears as medallions on a leather thong around her neck.  Among others there are feathers, pearls, shells gathered at Shell Cottage, several metal symbols that Hermione doesn’t recognise.  In her hair there is a huge bug formed hairpin.  She smiles at her friend, Luna truly is a wonderful person, and her appearance is always refreshing.

 

“I am afraid we are going to have to tone down your uniqueness my friend...  We are going to get you some extremely boring everyday clothes, and you have to remove your jewellery...”

 

“It’s all right Hermione.”  Luna smiles at her, showing that she didn’t misunderstand her.

 

“Mia?”  Han reaches out and puts his hand on Hermione’s forearm.  “I think we should make her Narcissa’s sister.  She is about eighteen, Narcissa looks like she is around thirty.  It could work.”

 

Hermione thoughtfully looks at her brother, but before she could say anything, Narcissa speaks up.

 

“That is truly generous of you Mr. Granger, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you, I’m in my early 40s.”

 

“Narcissa, remember the way you talk, and show your emotions.  However, Han is right, this is a good idea.  The Blue Jackets expect you to travel alone or with another woman, this new identity really could help.  Besides you do look like you are around thirty, I suppose this is because you are a powerful witch, and your magic slows your aging down.”  Hermione true to herself, showing her slightly bossy attitude, turns back to Luna, without even waiting for Narcissa’s answer.

 

“What do you think about having brown hair and green eyes?”  The mirth in Luna’s eyes concerns the Gryffindor for a moment, but she shrugs it off.  Luna is going to tell her idea eventually.

 

The blonde nods, tilts her head to the side, curiously eyeing Harry.  Hermione leans back, and waits for Luna to suggest something.  When it comes to Harry, she really has no idea.  Harry has always dressed very simple, nothing extraordinary, he could be one of the mass, the guy you wouldn’t notice, if you didn’t know his face as the Boy-Who-Lived.  Hermione supposes that being the Chosen One was burden enough to Harry, he didn’t want to add to his own problems, by getting judged because of his cloths too.  Or he just simply didn’t care, like her, preferring comfort and practicality above anything else.

 

Hermione shifts a little, and begins to study Bellatrix, she barely moved for the last few minutes, she seems to have something on her mind.  When the brown haired witch feels the young woman staring at her, she tilts her head, stretches the fingers on her left hand under the table, but then she thinks better of it, and settles for a simple questioning gaze.  Hermione is about to speak up, when Luna as dreamily as ever announces one word.

 

“Draco.”

 

For a moment everybody is silent then.

             
“That is...”

  
“You must be kidding!  No way!”

             
“What about my son?”

  
“... an excellent idea Luna!”

             
“What?!  Not you too Hermione!  You can’t be serious!”

  
“Sis?  Care to share?”       

  
“Basically Harry is going to wear...” Here she glares at her sulking best friend, daring him to protest, but of course The-Boy-Who-Lived didn’t survive a war without becoming wiser.  He very well knows what Hermione Granger is capable of, and he is not about to anger her.  After all a ride on a dragon was more than enough that one time, thank you very much.  So Harry remains silent, “...very elegant but dark clothes that let him appear aloof.”

 

She addresses Harry.  “You are going to be brown eyed, don’t shave, and we are going to make your hair somewhat lighter and comb it back.  Well, if Han...?”

             
“Yes, sure, don’t worry about it.”

 

The little company turns as one to look at Bellatrix, she is the next to get her metamorphosis planned out.

 

“Well this is going to be a challenge...”

             
“No need to be rude, young man!”

  
“I’m just...”

  
“Seriously Harry, better stay silent now, you know firsthand what Narcissa is capable of, if she feels she needs to defend her family.  Well, unless you have some constructive ideas to share with us.”

  
“Uh, no.  I’m just going to finish my breakfast now, and offer silent support for you lovely witches.”  With this he very conspicuously eyes the first item his sight falls on, which happens to be Luna’s yellow flower, but, well, no one is going to judge him, if he wants to taste those.

 

Apart from Han who is chuckling at Harry’s expense, and Harry who is muttering about bossy dragon ladies and picking at a slice of toast at the same time, everybody looks at Bellatrix.

 

The brunette nervously fidgets.  This too, is one of the new changes in her personality.  Being the centre of attention unnerves her, as if on an unconscious level she still could count on the pain that would follow the attention...  She begins to play with her fingers and looks down at her own lap.

 

“Narcissa, Luna, how good are you at healing spells and the theory behind healing magic?”

 

As soon as she hears Hermione’s words, Bellatrix goes pale, instantly lifts her gaze, and stares at the young woman’s face.  Her expressive brown eyes radiating fear and doubt.  Hermione recognises her mistake, so she reaches out to take Bellatrix’s hand, but the witch flinches back, and moves away from her.

 

 _Shit, what have I done?_ Hermione swallows her slight panic and forces herself to try to appear calm.  She turns her chair slowly so she is facing Bellatrix, she places her palms flat on her knees, leans back, and slowly in a soft voice begins to talk.

 

“Bellatrix, do you know what the first things about you, that are almost instantly noticed when you appear somewhere?”  The older witch lifts her head, she clearly wasn’t expecting this question.  She intently looks for something on Hermione’s face, and when she sees the usual calmness in those lighter brown eyes, she relaxes her posture a bit, and glances questioningly at the younger woman.

 

“Well firstly, your extremely fizzy dark brown hair, that seemingly defies all natural laws known to human kind.”  Her slight teasing tone shows that she isn’t intending to offend or judge the older witch.  The smile tugging at her lips turns into a wide grin when she sees Bellatrix fully relax, and play along.  The older woman huffs, crosses her arms and cocks her eyebrow, her gaze wandering to Hermione’s hair.  Even wordless, her message is clear.  _Seriously?  You are talking about hair issues?_ This makes Hermione blush a bit.

 

“Yes, well, um, moving on.  Even if your hair wouldn’t practically scream at everybody that Bellatrix Black is nearing, your black velvet or silk floor length dresses, with your leather corset, certainly would be tell-tale signs of your presence.”  When she sees the incredulous stares she gets, she hurriedly adds.  “I admit that mental image was a tad bit disturbing...”

 

“Lastly, well, if you happen to smile...”  The ever so eloquent bookworm in Hermione seems to be hiding right now, she stumbles upon her own words trying to put her next words somewhat diplomatically.  “Let’s just say you have a very distinctive smile.   Especially your teeth...  Yes, they are distinctive.”  She cringes at her own words and shuts her eyes, after a few moments she awkwardly cracks one open, and when she sees that the other witches are still looking at her, she once again hurriedly adds.

 

“I mean, I suppose that wasn’t your fault, your time in Azkaban must have been detrimental to the care of your oral hygiene.  And before you hex me, please consider that my parents are dentists, healers of teeth in the muggle world, and as a result I have a semi-serious obsession with dental and oral health.”  She nervously fidgets and looks anywhere but at the witches in front of her, until Bellatrix reaches out and takes her hand.

 

_'The brightest witch of her age does have a charming way with words.'_

She grins at Hermione, teasing her, showing that she isn’t offended.  Hermione hears that by now so familiar whispering voice again.

 

_'So you are going to change my hair and my way of dress, and you plan to heal my teeth?  Why did you ask Cissy and Luna about healing magic?'_

“You are right, and basically yes.”  She lifts her gaze to Narcissa and Luna.  “Could healing spells or potions be detected as body modification by Selach’s charms?  What do you know about healing?  I am sadly familiar only with the most basic healing spells...”  She looks rather sheepishly at the women in front of her.

 

“Ah, you mean if healing magic works as altering, modifying the cell structure or simply recreating the pre-disease state?”  Narcissa’s eyes practically mirror her delight about discussing magical theory.  “It’s slightly more complicated than this.  But no, the only way to detect healing magic is during the actual treatment, or when an extremely rare appearance happens, namely your own magic begins to heal your body on its own.  Which obviously didn’t occur in my sister’s case...”

 

At this Bellatrix simply _has_ to stick her tongue out at Narcissa.

 

“Ms. Black should be all right, combined spells with Skele-Grow potion will take care of it.  A more important question is:  What do you plan to do about her tattoos, or the most distinctive scars?  We are going to have to remove some.  Oh, this might even chase the nargles away that are constantly looming around her!”  Luna looks intently at the thin air by Bellatrix’s right shoulder, she must be observing one of her unique creatures.  She doesn’t seem to notice just how pale Bellatrix goes once again.

 

Hermione feels that the witch is even trembling.

  
_She is afraid, she doesn't want anybody to see her scars..._

             
She slowly leans closer to Bellatrix and whispers in her ear.  “If you want I could do it.  Whatever I might see, I promise it stays between us, and I am not going to judge you.”

             
The brunette clenches at her hand, Hermione can again hear that whispering voice, only this time it sounds so uncertain like never before.

             
' _Do we have to?'_

  
“I’m afraid so.  At least your Azkaban tattoo, and you have to show what happened to your Dark Mark.”

  
Bellatrix hesitates for a few moments then.  ' _Alright. You can do it, but no pity!'_

  
“You have my word.”

 

“Han, could you get her blue lenses and any kind of muggle clothing?  But wait, on second thought chose something belonging to a subculture.  It doesn’t really matter exactly what, because since she has lost her magic, her whole behaviour has changed, nobody is going to recognise her.”

 

Her brother just tilts his head, and hastily scribbles down some notes.

 

“And now, Hermione you are going to get a new identity!  Finally!”  Harry looks positively gleeful at the chance to change Hermione’s appearance.  Obviously he intends to have a little pay back.  In his eyes, this kind of mentality is absolutely justified.  They are once again on the run after all, everybody should grab every opportunity to have some fun whenever they can.

 

“Ms. Granger, pardon me, Hermione, there is something you have to know...”  Narcissa looks at Luna to explain.

  
“Hermione, do you remember what exactly I told you yesterday about you being wanted?”       
“Of course.  I am the second most wanted person in the British Wizarding world, I am supposed to be a mastermind who apparently must be capable of crushing Selach’s system single-handedly.  And... oh.  I see...  Please don’t tell me...”

             
“Sadly, yes.  You are an icon of everything that possibly could go wrong in the wizarding world, you are demonised, portrayed as the biggest threat to the New Order.  Plus since nobody knows who actually the first person on the List is, you are the most wanted criminal.  Your pictures hang everywhere, the measures taken couldn’t even be compared to the time when Harry was the Undesirable Nr. 1.”

 

 _What did she mean by nobody actually knows who the first one on the List is?  Does that mean..._ But Hermione’s musings are interrupted by Harry.

  
“Luna is right.  The whole situation kind of reminds me of an average cliché love song...” When he sees the disbelieving faces, plus Luna’s understanding look, he knows he has to explain.  “Well I barely missed you, since anywhere I went I saw your face...you know what, never mind me.  You were about to discuss that Hermione is too recognisable even with different hair and eye colours...”

 

Luna picks a yellow flower out of the vase, begins to caress the petals, and without even looking up she says.  “Narcissa, I believe we are getting a brother too.”

 

Dumbfounded silence follows her words then Harry breaks out in a laugh, Narcissa lifts her brow, Bellatrix curiously looks at Hermione, Luna begins to hum a different song, Han pats his sister’s shoulder, Hermione just whispers.  “I...  What?”          

  
“Chin up baby sis!  I am going to love you no matter what!”

             
“I know that Han, I love you too.” Hermione automatically squeaks.

             
Han smiles at his sister then thoughtfully adds.  “I think this could work.  If we chose your appearance carefully, then you should be a very believable twenty something year old young man.  Well, after a decent haircut obviously....”

             
“Hermione, I must admit, this really seems to be the only way.”  Narcissa says with an uneasy expression.

 

When Han notices that his sister still has to speak up on the actual matter, he nudges her slightly, and asks worriedly.  “Are you all right with this?”

             
Hermione smiles at him, and her expression softens.  “Don’t worry I’m fine, it just took me by surprise, it came so out of the blue...”  _Like most of Luna’s ideas....  “_ Besides, why should this even be a problem?I don’t define my femininity based on the size of my breasts or what my genitalia look like.”  The Gryffindor states confidently, but when she sees Harry’s and Narcissa’s slightly disturbed state, she turns to her brother smoothly, pretending that she didn’t notice anything.

 

“So, have we sorted everything out yet?  If yes then I think, we should...”

             
“Wait.”  Hannibal thoughtfully rubs at his chin.  Then suddenly looks up at Hermione, and simply says.  “Get together with Bellatrix Black.”

 

“WHAT?!”  Harry screams in a high pitched tone.  “Mate, have you gone bloody mad?”

  
“Hannibal,” Narcissa casts a worried look at the witches in question.  “I sincerely doubt that this would be the wisest course of action...”

  
Luna carefully observes the two witches.  Hermione hasn’t uttered a word yet.  Her posture is extremely rigid, all the blood left her face, she is obviously shaking, sweat broke out on her forehead, and she is biting on her lower lip.  Bellatrix looks almost as bad as Hermione.  She can’t lift her eyes off of her knees, she is fisting her black dress, and she is fidgeting constantly.  But Luna believes the most curious thing in this situation is the fact that the witches are still holding hands, both of them even tightened their grip on each other.

 

“I know, I know.”  Han begins, looking worriedly at his sister who still is in some state of catatonic shock.  “Look, they were on opposite sides of the war, no one expects them to be together, or even on speaking terms, especially given Ms. Black’s previous beliefs.  My sister is the only one who can communicate with her directly.  Plus if something went wrong, and you are forced into a magical fight, one of you is going to have to defend Ms. Black too.  If Narcissa did this, the sight of two older witches who are apparently close to each other, surely would ruin your cover, if you haven’t been discovered by that time.  And out of the rest of you, my sister is the brightest witch of her age, she clearly would be the best candidate.  Besides, how are you going to explain that three brothers and sisters in their early twenties and thirties are travelling with an around forty year old woman?  Harry could still be Hermione’s best friend, but we shouldn’t play this card twice.  Narcissa and Bellatrix pretending to be just friends would be a bit suspicious I believe.  As a result Hermione and Bellatrix being girlfriends is a reasonable solution.”

 

Han intertwines his hands and leans back waiting for the reactions.  The vacant look in Hermione’s eyes, her pale face and her stiff body, the extremely nervous witch next to her, Harry’s and Narcissa’s fearful and worried eyes all say that he is missing something very important.  He just can't put his finger on it...but of course Han is not going to ask.  His sister will tell him what happened eventually.

 

Luna still wears her contemplative expression, she slowly begins to speak.  “He does have valid arguments.”

  
“Luna!  Not you too!”

                         
Hermione finally manages to push down her own fear and nervousness enough to look up uneasily.  Just to be met with her friend’s and Narcissa’s worried glances, and Han’s searching, calculating one.

 

 _He is about to figure it out...I can't let that happen!_ She fights the urge to jump up to put distance between Bellatrix and herself.  She fights the urge to wrap her arms around herself.  _It’s Bella Black, Death Eater Lestrange is dead, gone.  Think.  Think._ She can’t bring herself to look into Bellatrix’s eyes.  When she sees that Han is getting even more suspicious, she looks at Bellatrix’s hands, forces a smile on her face and forces the dryness in her mouth away and shakily says.

             
“It does seem like a reasonable plan, doesn’t it... _sweetheart_?”  She nudges Bellatrix’s shoulder, the witch just stares at her wide eyed, myriad of expressions rapidly ghosting over her features.  Disbelief.  Regret.  Shame.  Worry.  Fear...  Hermione can’t bear to look at her, so she turns to her brother.

 

Han slightly cocks his brow at Hermione, but once again doesn’t ask anything.  His sister’s agreement reassured him a bit, it means that she believes she is able to handle this situation.  And he would never doubt Hermione’s judgement.

 

“All right then.  I am going to get dressed, write my friends, and in a few hours I could pick up everything you need.  Oh, and I still have to go buy clothes, after all there is no way I am letting my ‘brother’ leave the house without some decent themed pair of boxer shorts.”  With that he stands up, nods at his guests, walks to Hermione and hugs her.

 

“Hannibal your lovely enthusiasm never fails to amaze me.”  The young witch sarcastically says, and ruffles her brother’s dark blonde hair out of habit, since she is still in some kind of stupor.

 

When Han leaves the kitchen, nobody says a word, nobody dares to break the silence.

 

Hermione clears her throat, wraps her arms around her, and walks over the kitchen counter, leaning against it, staring out of the window.  After a few heavy minutes she asks without turning back to the table.

  
“What can you tell me about the Blue Jackets?”  Her question indicates that she doesn’t want to speak about _that_ subject to anyone.

 

“I know that they are rigorously trained, very skilled opponents.  However I don’t know what this training entails exactly, or how they are selected.  By the time Selach made this force, I had already lost all my contacts in the Ministry.”  Narcissa’s face is absolutely blank, cold even, she masks all her thoughts.  If Hermione wishes not to address the problem at hand, she is going to respect it.  However that doesn’t mean that she isn’t concerned.  She nods at Luna, hoping the young blonde could add something to her words.

 

“The Blue Jackets are either half or pure-bloods.  Their very first division is made up by the oldest, and most fanatic supporters of Selach and his ideas.  They know what Selach is, and what he is trying to achieve behind all those big words and propaganda, they willingly destroyed our world.  The newer divisions were created by them.  You can join the Blue Jackets after you pass an extremely thorough background monitoring, and if you are deemed idealistic enough.  During their training they are fanaticised beyond repair, every kind of magical and psychological trick is inflected upon them, so they become soldiers, who never question their authorities, who don’t have any consciousness, their blood lust easily matches the ones showed by Death Eaters....”

 

She pauses and looks directly at Hermione who by now is facing her, paying rapt attention to her.  “Narcissa is right, they are extremely skilful soldiers, when you face them, don’t count on good luck or incompetency that often helped us against the Death Eaters.”  Luna turns to Bellatrix, and dreamily - earnestly says.  “Of course I didn’t mean you Bellatrix Black, you certainly are a very efficient killer, an extremely talented but equally lethal opponent.”  At her words everybody in the kitchen flinches, except Bellatrix who wears a melancholy expression.  However Luna just continues, judging by her tone of voice, she simply just meant to acknowledge Bellatrix’s magical talent.  She turns to Hermione again.

 

“When you face the Blue Jackets, it’s always either you or them, there is no mercy.”  She lets her words sink in, then adds.  “I could state the obvious too.  Dragon hide has a practical function too, not just symbolising their unity.  It provides protection against magical attacks to a certain level.  Meaning the slicing hexes aren’t going to be as deep as intended, and so on.  You have to be resourceful and act quickly when you face them.  Hmm, I think that’s all I know about them.”

 

She refills her mug with tea, slowly sips at it, her legs are swinging and she is drawing some kind of pattern with her hand against the surface of the table.  Nothing indicates that she was talking about murdering just mere seconds ago.

 

Bellatrix shifts slowly, prudently in her chair, she taps her hand lightly against the table.  She isn’t looking in Hermione’s direction, she still can’t meet her eyes.  Her sister pushes the previously conjured parchment, ink and quill in front of her.  Bellatrix begins to write with careful measured movements, and Narcissa reads out loud.

 

_They all wear a special necklace with a charmed medal.  It serves as a communication device, the principle is similar to the Dark Mark’s, just more developed.  By touching it they can summon help immediately, plus there is a charmed information system and several secret places that are only accessible for persons wearing this necklace.  I suppose there are other additional functions too, but I couldn't find them out._

She puts down her quill and begins to stare at the patterns in the wood.  Nobody dares to ask how she knows this, or they just don’t want their suspicions being confirmed.

 

“Well, that dissolves half of the mystery around the first person on the List...” Harry remarks.

 

Hermione doesn’t say anything for a while.  She crosses her ankles and turns back to the window, she is obviously lost in thought, her fingers once again stray to her tattoo, where _the_ scar was.

 

_How on Earth could you brace yourself for killing people?  Because from now on, if we happen to cross paths, we have to take the Blue Jackets’ lives as fast as possible.  Otherwise the moment they have a spare second during a fight, they will summon back up.  Stunners are absolutely useless.  The victims wake up in a few minutes, and then with a newly summoned mass of soldiers they can magically seal the area, and we will be captured.  Oh, the beauty of fighting against a whole state and its resources...  Just how miserable is this?!  To think that during a war against an isolated group of dark witches and wizards, we could keep more of our humanity than during the supposed new order...  We simply have no choice but take any kind of advantage we can.  Any kind...  Which reminds me..._

Absolutely forgetting about the others in the room, she draws her wand and whispers barely audibly.  “Accio bag.”

             
A moment later a loud screech can be heard, that could count even by squirrel standards rather undignified.  It startles everybody but Hermione.  She just smiles playfully.  _Serves you right you dork!_ She stretches her hand out and catches her black messenger bag.  She is about to open it when Hannibal steps in the kitchen.

 

“Sister!  Are you trying to kill me?  First you bring that evil ginger fur ball, you call a pet, here only to have that little monster tormenting me all day, and now you hit me with your bag on the head!  While I might add, I am descending those blasted stairs!”  He huffs and crosses his arms, and tries very hard to have an annoyed face but the mischief in his eyes gives him away.  Hermione lovingly ruffles his hair, smiles at him and mutters an apology along with a drama king comment.

 

She opens her bag, rummages in it for a while, something metallic and several books falling and hitting the floor can be heard then she shakes her head and closes her bag.

 

“I need to go with you.”  She looks up at her brother.  He just curiously lifts his eyebrow.           
“You know well enough that you can’t accompany me to my buddies.  They are too paranoid, and trust me, you don’t want to hear their conspiracy theories about what truly is behind you disappearing for months these past few years...”

  
“I know that, what I meant to say was, could you please wait for me while I get ready?  I have to get something from my other safe place, and it would be lovely if you could drop me off on the way.”

  
“All right, but hurry up!”  Hermione is about to run out of the room, when Harry catches her elbow, she immediately tenses up, turns back fast, feet automatically moving into the standard fighting position and her wand is already drawn under Harry’s chin.  The-Boy-Who-Lived drops his hands, and steps back.  _She is...ever since_ that _night..._ He forces a smile on his face, and hopes she doesn’t see through it, but of course she does.  Hermione relaxes, lowers her head and whispers.

  
“Don’t sneak up on me!  One day it could end badly...”  She stands up straight.  “What is it Harry?”

  
“We are going with you.”

             
“No, you are staying here.”

             
“But why?”

  
“Because alone I can take care of everything that I need to do now faster, a lone girl would draw less attention than three young adults who are constantly and rather suspiciously observing their surroundings.  Plus we had a magical fight yesterday, there is a possibility that Blue Jackets are already patrolling here just in case, so if something went wrong then just one of us would be captured, the others still could leave the country.”  Harry resignedly sits down.  Sometimes he really dislikes Hermione’s logical mind and that she is almost always right. 

 

Hermione looks at Narcissa.  “And before you begin, you are too easily recognisable for _any_ member of the British magical society.”  Narcissa clenches her jaw, but then nods.

             
“Sis?”

  
“I know, on my way.”          

  
She bolts out of the room and runs upstairs.  Bellatrix casually writes something on her parchment and offers it to her sister.  Narcissa reads it, and immediately stares at Bellatrix.  Her annoyance, disbelief and a hint of fear is clearly written on her face.  The brunette just stares back indifferently, the blonde’s glares have never worked with her before, and they won’t in the future either.

  
“Fine.  If you must.”  Bellatrix stands up, pushes back her chair and turns to leave, but her sister’s tone stops her.     

  
“Bella?  Just be careful please.”  All emotions but her concern is disappeared from her soft voice.  Bellatrix nods and walks back to their room.  She is already in her velvet dress and leather corset, there is no way that a Black sits down to eat in pyjamas, even if she lost her magic.  So she grabs her Invisibility Cloak and goes back downstairs to wait next to Han for Hermione.

 

The young man eyes her curiously but he doesn’t ask anything.

  
Finally Hermione returns...and positively shocks everyone.  She has a black wig on, the fake hair reaching to her waist, a pair of black high heels, a black miniskirt, the skimpiest article of clothing she has ever worn, and a revealing purple blouse, but its arms are long to hide her tattoo.  For a moment everybody is stunned to silence, but then suddenly Han smiles at her.      
“You are as beautiful as always love.  And this is a very smart cover.”

             
Hermione beams up at him, and using her added height, easily kisses his cheek.

 

Harry is still gaping at her, he pinches his arm, shakes his head, but he is still unable to form any coherent sentences.  Hermione rolls her eyes at him in annoyance.

             
“Honestly Harry, snap out of it!”  She turns and literally marches out.  She hears Narcissa whispering ‘I certainly didn’t see this coming.’

 

Hermione is about to de-activate the alarm and unlock the door when she notices that not only Han but Bellatrix is following her too.   She tenses up immediately and takes an involuntary step back to put more distance between them.  The Gryffindor quickly regains her composure, lifts her chin, and hides her thoughts, emotions behind a blank mask.

 

“What are you doing Bellatrix?”  She whispers.  Han glances between the two women curiously but steps out of the door without voicing any of his thoughts.

 

The witches stare at each other, neither of them backing away, their gazes never waver.  Bellatrix crocks her brow, Hermione just rolls her eyes at her, but she lifts an extremely reluctant left hand up, so the dark brown haired woman can explain herself.  Bellatrix sees how uncomfortable the younger woman is, so she only brushes the tips of her fingers against Hermione’s, instead of taking her hand.

 

_'We need to talk.'_


	6. Glass splinters and a Dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,  
> this is the last chapter, which was beta-read by Michi the Mischievous over at the ff. side.  
> From here on everything is going to be edited by yours truly.   
> There are 8 chapters already written, and as soon as I have time, I am going to upload them.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, and especially for the comments! I was truly overjoyed to receive them! Sadly I must confess, I am still quite rubbish if it's about properly working this side, so I accidentally deleted one of the comments -to my deepest regrets. It wasn't on purpose, merely being an inexperienced fool.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**Chapter 6 – Glass splinters and a Dagger**

“Seriously?  That is your only reason?”

 

Bellatrix lets her hand fall, crosses her arms and glares at Hermione.  _She is not telling me something..._ The young woman sighs tiredly, rubs at her forehead and says in a softer tone.

 

“Look if you want to, we can talk after I am back.  It really isn’t safe, even if you are using your invisibility cloak, if we happen to come across Blue Jackets, they are going to know that there is another person besides me, if one of them can sense magical signatures.  I could also tell that you were behind Narcissa during the fight last night.”

 

A slow teasing smile stretches across Bellatrix’s features, it so doesn’t fit into their conversation that when Bellatrix offers her hand, Hermione takes it without any hesitation.

 

_'What do you know about sensing magical signatures?'_

“Uh, well every magical person can sense magic, but only a few of them are able to detect the magical signature behind the magic.  To notice the fine differences between people’s magic, to pay attention to the signs that identify the exact magic user, not simply the kind of applied magic.  The way a witch or wizard can sense magical ability differs from person to person, some see colours, some smell scents and so on.  But I don’t know more about this, it isn’t a well documented part of magical theory...”

 

Bellatrix's smile just grows even wider.  Hermione frowns at her.  They are wasting time, and she still can’t see what Bellatrix’s angle is.  She impatiently glances at the door over her shoulder, and fidgets a bit.  Bellatrix tightens her hand around Hermione’s to gain her attention.

 

_'You said, only a few people are able to sense it.  Well, let me tell you, you are wrong.  It’s extremely rare.'_

 Hermione stops moving and immediately looks up at her, surprise written on her face.  Bellatrix sighs soundlessly and ‘says’.

_'I’m guessing you discovered this ability of yours rather recently, perhaps after the war ended...'_  She pauses, waiting for Hermione to confirm her suspicions.  When the slightly dumbfounded Gryffindor nods, she continues.  ' _You see, it isn't enough to be powerful, to have great magical potential.  If it were, there would be many more people running around sensing magical signatures.  No, you have to be absolutely in tune with your own magic, you have to accept it as well as yourself.  Most people just use their magic like a common tool, they don't embrace it like another living being that happens to be a part of you, that contributes to you being yourself.  As you can see, sensing magical signatures isn't a mere ability but a state of mind too...'_

Hermione is once again awed by the older witch, her vast knowledge about magical theory is slightly intimidating.  However she furrows her brows, she still questions why Bellatrix chose this exact moment to tell her all this. Unless...

 

“Wait.  Accepting yourself, knowing and embracing ones magic, a state of mind...  Are you saying that the fanatical training of the Blue Jackets dooms even the most talented ones among them to never developing this ability?”

 

_‘Oh, look at you young one!  The Dark Lord’s files about you being the brightest witch of your age were true after all.  Oh the shock, settle down my heart...'_

Hermione rolls her eyes at the grinning witch’s antics.

             
“Hush you.”  She lets Bellatrix’s hand go, puts her black sunglasses on, and stares down at the older woman.  “Fine.  Whatever.  Tag along, but you better stay under that blasted cloak of yours, no matter what happens, or else...”  Bellatrix doesn’t even wait for her to finish, she slips under the cloak, and she is already vanished.   
Well, sort of.  Where the brown haired woman stood just a mere second ago, Hermione can see a pile of Bellatrix Black shaped glass splinters in thousands of colours, Bellatrix’s broken magical signature.  _This is really going to be disturbing..._

However she isn’t finished yet, so she continues as if nothing had changed.  “Behave, don’t wander off, if you are curious, just ask, don’t...”  She sees Bellatrix’s hand moving up to her temples, and before the Gryffindor could share any more ‘advice’ Bellatrix reaches out, opens the door, and pushes Hermione out to the front yard.  She slams the door and seems to look around.

 

 _Blasted Blacks and their impatience!  Eager much, I gather?_ Hermione adjusts her glasses back on her nose and begins to walk towards Han’s waiting and already running car.  She sees a pile of Bellatrix-shaped colourful glass splinters skipping next to her heading towards the car.

 

 _Disturbing?  Scratch that, this is beyond bizarre!_ The young witch huffs, and given the circumstances she allows herself to wallow in self pity for a few minutes, something that she would never ever do.  _Why did my brains and my magic feel the need to sense magical signatures by associating pictures to every magical core?  Why couldn't I get something simple, something nice, like Luna’s way of sensing.  Nice colours paired to every person..._ She looks up again at the...unique appearance in front of her.  _And why does she have to skip?  Bellatrix Black skipping alone would be shocking enough, but this?!  What has my life become?_ She shakes her head, and keeps on walking, determined that from now on she is going to pretend that this is an absolutely normal late summer day in England...

 

Bellatrix stops at the car, and is about to look under it, when Hermione steps up to her.  The young witch looks around, taking in their surroundings, even though she knows that were anybody with magical abilities in their neighbourhood, her wards would already have alerted her.  Nevertheless you can never be cautious enough, she tilts her head, her fake hair hiding her face and whispers to Bellatrix.

             
“Not now.  Later I could tell you about cars, if you are interested, but please just get in when I open the door.”  Bellatrix steps up next to her and nods.  Hermione does as she said, and after the older woman she gets in too.

 

Han speedily drives down the street without saying anything.  After a while when he is sure that they are not being followed he asks.  “Is everything all right?”

 

Hermione smiles at her brother, he always manages to ask in a way, that shows he is caring but at the same time he gives Hermione the freedom to decide how much she wants to, or is comfortable enough to share.       

  
“Yes, she is accompanying me.”  To his credit Hannibal doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he hears this.  “Han, would you please drop us off at my favourite book store?”

  
“I’m already a step ahead of you sis.  Somehow I suspected you were going there...”  He winks at her in the rear view mirror and they share a smile.

 

Hermione glances at Bellatrix, and when she sees how rigid her posture is, she turns to her fully.  It is still unnerving to speak to Bellatrix Black of all people, but when all Hermione sees from her is her practically being a pile of glass splinters, well, it is one of the most surreal sights the young witch has ever encountered.  However it does help that the older woman’s figure is clearly visible, it’s like she were wearing a very colourful whole body paint.

 

 _She is so tense..._ The young witch reaches out hesitantly and slowly puts her hand on Bellatrix’s.  She squeezes it slightly, she waits for Bellatrix to ‘speak up’.  After a few minutes the woman seems to sigh deeply, her shoulders falling forward.  The invisible witch turns her hand gently, giving Hermione time to pull back, but when she sees that the bushy haired girl isn’t going to retreat, and wants to hear her, she takes her hand and ‘says’ in her soft whispering voice.

 

_'This is the first time ever that I am in a car.'_

“Yes, I had a hunch this might be your problem.  But don’t worry, it’s quite similar to the Knight Bus...just smaller and without any magic.”

 

_'I have never taken the Bus either.  It wasn't a proper way of travelling for a witch with my...background.'_

On the last word her voice drops to a bitter tone.  Hermione isn’t really sure what she is supposed to say after this, so she settles for something neutral.

             
“Don’t worry, a few more minutes and we are there.”

 

 _'No, you misunderstand me.'_  Bellatrix seems to ponder on her words, how she should explain her feelings, then:

  
' _I’m not afraid or worried that we are sitting in a car that has no enchantments at all to prevent accidents...  It’s just...  I feel as if the realization hit me only now with full force:  that from now on I am forced to use muggle technology...something that I don't know, nor do I understand.  I have to learn to trust, to rely, and even grow to like a world I was taught to hate.  A world that I did hate and despised all my life so far...  Don't take this the wrong way.  I fully understand my situation, and I have no choice but to accept it, so I am looking forward to getting to know the muggles and their world, but...  Everything seems so strange...  Sometimes I feel like the reality that I have known so far was sucked away from around me, closed in a box and thrown to the depths of the ocean.  And I am just now feeling around my way in a space that I have yet to fill with a new world...'_

Hermione is speechless.  She would have never imagined that Bellatrix Lestrange would be able to open up on such a deep and personal level, or even to voice her own feelings.  _But she is Bella Black now...that’s why._ She tries to compose herself to be able and offer an acceptable answer.  She intertwines their fingers once again, and squeezes the older woman’s hand renewed.

 

“Thank you for sharing that with me Bellatrix.”  She pauses, she isn’t sure if she should tell what is on her mind right now.  But then she reminds herself that the first step always have to be long enough to actually leave your shell of fear and dread behind, and breathe a lungful of air that smells like sickly sweet risk.  She is never going to be able to heal and move on, if she is just observing behind her own shield.  So she squares her shoulders, leans closer to Bellatrix and whispers so Han can’t hear her.

             
“Thank you for opening up, to trusting me enough, and thank you for trying to show me who you really are, even if you have no idea who this person is right now.  It...it helps me to hear you voicing these thoughts of yours.  Because...because every time you do, you prove that you are not _her_ , not anymore.”  She practically can feel those expressive brown eyes burning into her.

 

“And you know what?  So far you had only that one world of yours, well what do you say, if we fill that empty space you mentioned with several new worlds?  I mean, now you are not hindered by prejudice and hatred, you are going to see more, understand and embrace more.  Why settle for one world if you could have several?  There are so many beautiful things in the muggle world too, such a great variety, so many experience...  And...”

 

_'You are an idealist Granger.'_

“Please,” Hermione answers in a pretend arrogant voice, “I just happen to appreciate beauty, and have too much free time for pseudo-philosophy, know the difference, Black!”  At the end of her sentence, her tone becomes a teasing one.  “Hmm, now that I am thinking about it...maybe I should read more...”  At this they look at each other and share a light smile. 

 

Bellatrix moves closer to Hermione and puts her head on her shoulder.  The young witch’s body instantly goes rigid, she stops breathing, and she has to scratch together every ounce of willpower she has not to jump back or push the older woman away.  She can’t help the uneasiness, at best, and fear, at worst, creeping up her spine whenever Bellatrix touches her without warning.

 

The brown haired witch feels the distress in the younger woman, but now she is determined not to let Hermione hide and retreat again.  Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, if there is one person that could be more stubborn than her, then it’s Bellatrix.  Naturally, the Slytherin stays put and waits.

 

After a few tense minutes, she feels Hermione slowly relaxing.  At first she takes a few shallow breaths then she leans back in the car seat, and Bellatrix can hear her shakily sighing.  She thinks this is as good a time to talk as it ever gets, so she ‘speaks up’.

 

_'I...wanted to say, that you really don't have to do it. I don't want to do this to you.'_

Hermione grips the seat with her free hand so tightly that her knuckles turn white.  This is the only indication that she understands what exactly Bellatrix means by this.

 

“Actually, my brother is right.  I have to do it.  _We_ have to do it...”  She looks at Bellatrix’s face.  “It takes two people to pretend to be in a relationship.”  She tiredly rubs her eyes, and continues in a resigned voice.  “Besides I don’t imagine that this is going to be so easy on you either. After all...”

 

_'Please, don't fret about me, I think I could handle it.  It’s just...well, you are...'_

Hermione cuts her off.  “All right, it’s settled then.  Let’s think of it as team work.  We are going to cooperate, and if one of us notices that the other is...hmm, somehow uneasy with the situation, we try to help her out.  What do you say?”

             
' _I agree, I am going to do my best.'_

  
“Thank you.”

 

Hermione turns her head, she observes the rapidly changing trees at the side of the road.  _Did she really want to say this?  Is this the only reason she insisted on accompanying me?  Somehow I think this isn't the whole truth..._ She snaps out of her musings when she hears Han saying.

  
“We are here sis.”  He slows down, parks the car across from the store, and turn to look at Hermione.  “Take care.”  When he sees she is about to roll her eyes, he adds.  “I know, you are the brightest witch of your age, but you are also my baby sis!  And I intend to practice my privilege to worry about you whenever I deem the situation fitting!”  Hermione is already grinning at him.  “So, like I said, take care, if anything comes up, call me.  Otherwise see you at home!”  He leans over and kisses her on her forehead.  Hermione ruffles his hair and smiles at him.  She gets out of the car, and waits for her invisible companion.  She hears Han whispering.  “Oh, and don’t lose Ms. Black.”  Well, this comment earns one of Hermione’s royal eye rolls.  She waves at Han, and waits till he leaves the street.

 

_Please, like I could lose a bunch of walking glass splinters..._

_  
_ The young woman crosses the street, carefully observing her surroundings.  She stops in front of the store, pretends to read the cover of a book she picked up randomly.  She tilts her head and sees Bellatrix standing directly next to her.  Hermione closes her eyes and concentrates.  She doesn’t feel any magic nearby, but this doesn’t necessary mean that there isn’t another magical person in this area.  Only that magic isn’t being used right at this moment, or the wizard or witch is skilful enough to hide.  _Well, it was worth a try._

She lowers her head, and whispers to Bellatrix.

             
“Stay close.  I have to get something from one of my safe places nearby then we are going back to the house as fast as possible.  It shouldn’t take long.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bellatrix nodding.  She puts down the book, adjusts her sunglasses on her nose, and she begins to walk down the street.  She falls into her character.  She moves in a different way than she usually would.  Her hips are swaying, head held high, a lazy half grin on her face, she radiates the confidence of a person, who knows she is getting attention from everybody in her way, but she is already used to it, so she doesn’t give anybody a second glance.  She flicks her hair back over her shoulder, surprisingly the sound of her clicking heels calms her somewhat.  However under her facade, she is carefully observing her surroundings, searching for any kind of danger.  She tilts her head to the side, so she can glance at Bellatrix without turning towards her.  The brown haired woman is on her heels, stepping soundlessly, and skilfully avoiding everybody walking in her way.

 

Although it’s an exceptionally hot summer day, the streets are crowded in this part of the city.            
 _In any other case, I’d say, the mass covers us, hides us, but now we are not facing stray witches or wizards wanting to harm us, or even pure-blooded Death Eaters who could never move in a crowd like this naturally, but an organized, trained special force.  Based on what Narcissa and Luna said, they could surround and follow us without me even noticing it.  Because they don't want muggles to discover them, they are going to try to blend in.  They don't feel superior to them unlike the Death Eaters used to.  Their only goal is keep the New Order...by eliminating the potential threats and peacefully co-existing with the muggles.  So this means, it’s better if I...yes, I am going to do that._

Hermione casually and confidently turns to the left, into a small lane, Bellatrix closely behind her.  Only a few people saunter in this area, so she can more easily watch them, searching for any sign of potential danger.  Besides, the ancient houses with the timeless atmosphere around them do offer a silent sense of protection.  This is Hermione’s favourite part of the city, her playground.  She knows it better than even the people living here do, and this gives her an immense advantage against any kind of opponent should she be attacked here.

 

She takes the first street on the right, and at the end of it, she turns to the left, walking down another small lane that leads to a square surrounded by those timeless houses and ancient trees.  In the middle of it is a fountain, both the statue standing in it, as well as the stones around it, are covered in moss and lichen. The water is green, unmoving, ever since the fountain stopped functioning.

 

This display of decay lures a slight smile on Hermione’s face, and she confidently walks up to it.  Slowly circling the fountain, her gaze wanders around the square. Children are playing not far from her, and students are reading or amicably talking under the trees, there are a few other persons idly standing by.

 

Hermione casually runs her hand over the soft green surface of the stones surrounding the water then she gracefully sits down on one of them.  Bellatrix stands two paces away from her, she seems to be looking at her.  Hermione takes another glance around, it appears that no one is paying attention to what she is doing.

 

She closes her eyes, slides her hand over the stone to her right, and presses her palm against it, while she concentrates on her magic...  Suddenly her hand _falls into_ the stone, seemingly its solid nature has vanished.  She invented this type of warding herself, and she keyed it to her own magic.  This stone was an essential part of her last back up plan.  She never intended to come here with the boys, if she ever would have needed to visit this place during the war, well then it would have meant that everything went _horribly_ wrong...  She pulls her hand out.  She is holding a small bag, similar to the one she used during the war.  Hermione stands up, is about to walk away, but Bellatrix closes the distance between them stops her.

 

The brown haired witch reaches out and grabs Hermione’s hand.  The young woman keeps her posture relaxed, and pretends that she is looking at the playing children behind Bellatrix.  The older witch’s voice is already ghosting in her head.

 

_'There is a brown haired wizard over by the red car, he is watching you.'_

Hermione feels the uneasiness creep up her spine...  _This can't be good._ She forces herself to remain in a natural pose, as if nothing had changed.  Without breaking the skin to skin contact with Bellatrix she lazily turns, as if she were observing the architecture of the surrounding houses.  She sees the man Bellatrix was referring to, but she can’t recognise anything strange about him.  She parts her lips, and without moving them whispers to Bellatrix.

 

“Are you sure?”

  
' _Positive.  Can you sense his magical signature?'_

             
“No.  That’s why I asked.”

             
' _Has this ever happened before?'_

             
“No, since I developed this ability, I always could tell...”

             
' _Even last night?'_

             
“What?”

  
' _During the fight against the Blue Jackets.'_

  
“Fuck!'

  
' _It’s all right.  Stay calm, keep up your act like you have so far, and slowly walk to a deserted street if you know one here.'_

Hermione begins to stroll across the square, she puts her bag into the pocket of her skirt, so her wand arm could move unhindered, her left hand is still held by Bellatrix.  In mid-step, she softly brushes her right against her own thigh, feeling her wand that is in a holster on her forearm relaxes her instantly.  She allows herself a small grin.

 

_Yes, even if he were to attack, he doesn’t know what he is in for..._

Hermione leads them to another lane, only on this one there are trees on both sides.  They walk in silence for a few minutes, until the young witch again can hear Bellatrix.

 

_'He is following us.  He doesn't know who you are, otherwise he would have already acted by now, but somehow he finds you suspicious.  Or at least let’s hope it’s about a suspicion and not something else...'_

“Nevertheless, the more he is around, the easier we could slip, and then...”

 

_'Exactly.  You do know what this means, don't you?'_

“I was afraid it would come to this...  Yes, I know.  Do you see that house with the red geranium in the window?”

 

_'Yes.'_

“Between that house and its neighbour there is a narrow alley...”

 

_'Let’s go there.'_

They turn to the left, walk into the alley, it is so small that shadows from the houses around them cover everything, they take a few more steps then wait silently.  Bellatrix releases Hermione’s hand, and presses her back against the wall, she tilts her head, so she can face the street.  Hermione stands calmly, wand not yet drawn, she wants to see what the wizard has on his mind.

 

They can hear heavy footsteps that are getting steadily faster and louder, until the wizard busts running into the alley.  His wand is already in his hand, the moment his eyes fall on Hermione, he casts a Cruciatus at her.

 

 _Hmm, so he just wanted to ‘play’.  If he knew who I was, he would have used the Killing Curse._ Hermione easily dodges, flicks her wrist and her wand slides into her hand.  Using her momentum, she wordlessly sends a nasty jinx at the wizard, and while he is preoccupied countering it in the last moment, Hermione casts a Protego around Bellatrix.

 

 _The only problem with a shield charm is that you can not keep up more than one of them, so dodging it is for me..._ He sends a blasting curse at her, she redirects it into the wall near to her attacker, but the detonation hurls broken pieces of sharp stone not only at him but at her too.  Again, she steps away, but she isn’t quick enough and she gets cut on her right cheek and right forearm.  Luckily the wizard looks worse, he has a deep gash on his left thigh, and a bigger piece of stone is sticking out of his abdomen.

 

Hermione is about to attack him again, when she sees Bellatrix standing behind him.  The angry wizard doesn’t seem to notice anything strange, he lifts his arm to cast another curse at Hermione, but the young witch doesn’t notice it.  Her eyes widen and she sees Bellatrix’s hand moving in front of the wizard.  Suddenly she yanks his head back by his hair, and with her other hand she slices his throat.  She lets his body fall to the ground.

 

Hermione is frozen to her spot, she is staring at the dagger, the blood dripping off of it, she tilts her head and observes with a bizarre numbness how the dark puddle around the body grows.  She snaps out of her stupor, when Bellatrix steps up to the wizard, opens his shirt and puts her dagger under the strange necklace he is wearing.  She lifts it slightly so Hermione too can see it.

 

The young witch goes nearer and stares down at it.  Bellatrix is pointing at a small silver plate covered in runes and a simple circle attached to its left corner, both are obviously from magical origin.  The medallion hangs on a thin silver chain.  Bellatrix reaches out without standing up from her crouching position, and puts her hand flat against Hermione’s naked leg.

_'This is the necklace I was talking about.  He is a Blue Jacket.  Transfigure the body, and clean the mess.  We have to leave immediately.'_  She pauses and adds hesitantly.  ' _Um, please?'_  She looks up uneasily at Hermione, she is obviously not used to saying this word.

 

Hermione stares down at her incredulously.  _She just murdered someone, and she is fretting over a ‘please’?!  And besides what the bloody hell was that stunt previously?_ Hermione is in a slight daze, her emotions and thoughts running a mile per hour, varying from outrage, disbelief, fear to relief, guilt and the list goes on.  She can’t decide what to do, how to react.  She feels Bellatrix’s hand tighten around her leg as if she is urging her to come to her senses finally.

 

 _She is right.  We need to act, and get the hell out of here.  Everything else can wait.  Till then: compartmentalise.  Think._ She steps back, Bellatrix stands up and follows suit.  She looks at the older woman and simply states.  “We need to talk.  Later.”

             
She transfigures the body into a small stone, puts it in a garbage bin, scourgifies the alley and repairs the damages.  It only takes mere seconds before she is again facing Bellatrix.  “Hold onto my hand.”  She has never tried Luna’s invention of using one’s patronus as a magical way of transport, but she has to do it now, no matter what.  She closes her eyes and concentrates.

  
 _She is three, 6 years old Han is teaching her how to ride her green bicycle.  First time she sees the sea.  Her father teaching her how to swim.  Her mother’s embrace.  The Hogwarts acceptance letter.  Holding her own wand for the first time.  Diving into the water.  Han telling her how proud he is of her.  Harry’s smile..._

  
“Expecto Patronum.”

 

Hermione opens her eyes, glancing around she sees that they are in Han’s kitchen.  She exhales shakily.  Now that they were back to safety, she lets the whirlwind of emotions go.  Without noticing anybody else, she turns to Bellatrix.  The older woman takes her cloak off, and stares at Hermione, waiting.  The Gryffindor is taking deep breaths, in an obvious vain attempt to calm down, when that doesn’t work, she grabs Bellatrix’s dress at her collarbone, and pushes the older woman forcefully against the wall.

 

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?!  Have you lost your bloody mind?!  A blasted dagger against an armed bloody wizard?!  And how the fuck do you have a dagger in the first place?!”  Hermione is whispering, but her tone is very harsh, and she is emphasising all her sentences by pushing the older witch repeatedly against the wall.

 

The shorter woman has to tilt her head back to be able to look into Hermione’s eyes, however even in her position, her chin is held high and determination radiates off of her features.  Bellatrix puts her hands on Hermione’s to stop her pushing her and bruising her back more.

 

_'Did you seriously think that I am going to chat amicably about daggers with you of all people!  Well, surprise, surprise, Bellatrix Black never goes anywhere without a dagger!'_

At this Hermione recoils slightly, but she doesn’t let Bellatrix go.  The witch isn’t finished yet.

_'He didn't see me, I had the advantage.  Plus I had to act because his next curse would have caught you off guard, it would have gained him a spare moment to touch his necklace and call for reinforcements.  And then Granger, we would have been fucked!'_  She pokes Hermione’s chest with her index finger.  ' _Next time, don't fool around with jinxes, or protection for me, but kill them immediately as soon as you know that they are Blue Jackets!  You bloody well know the fucking consequences if you fail to act fast and accordingly!'_

“Still, it was reckless, you could have been hurt..”

 

Bellatrix by now is beyond livid, but hearing Hermione say this is the last straw.  Her cheeks are flushed, and if it weren’t for the thousands of emotions in those dark brown eyes, Hermione would think she was standing in front of Death Eater Lestrange.

 

_'Don't you fucking dare to patronize or pity me!  I am a fighter, I have always been!  I was the Dark Lord’s first lieutenant, the only female Death Eater, don't you dare imply that I am helpless, child!  Yes, I lost my magic, and this makes me search for who I am, I am broken in a way, but I am stronger in another.  However, I refuse to be victimized, by you or by anybody else!  The only thing that I know for sure about me is that I am a warrior.  I have always been fighting and I will fight in the future too.  Yes, they took my magic away, but they didn't break my spirit.  I will go down fighting even if my only weapon is a fucking dagger!'_

Bellatrix pauses, panting.  Hermione just stares at her with wide eyes, her hold on Bellatrix lessened with every fallen sentence.  She looks at the older woman in a new way, her words changed something in Hermione.  The young witch would have never imagined that she was capable of respecting Bellatrix Black in any shape or form, but here she is literally gaping at her in awe.

 

_This woman is...  Unbelievable..._

Bellatrix still seems to be rather angry, she pushes Hermione off, breaking their contact, for a moment Bellatrix forgets about herself...    
... and begins to talk.  Only no sound leaves her mouth... Hermione watches her helplessly, the rapidly moving lips and the deafening, everlasting silence surrounding the brown haired woman...

 

Bellatrix realises what is happening, bites her lip, her whole figure begins to tremble, she balls her hands into fists, tilts her head back, opens her mouth and with a deep breath screams as much as she can.  However the silence around her never sways, it engulfs everything, and seems to creep even into the strongest of bones.

 

The brown haired woman turns and hastily leaves the room, practically running upstairs, slamming a door behind her.  Hermione finally snaps out of her stupor, and is about to run after her, when somebody catches her wrist.

 

“Don’t.  You have to leave her alone for a while Ms. Granger.  I know my sister, trust me, this is for the best.”  Hermione just stares at Narcissa, not understanding how she got here, or how could she say something like that?  She lifts her eyes and locks her gaze with Narcissa’s.  The almost shockingly serious blueness, with all its displayed sadness, tiredness, makes her realize that the blonde woman is probably right.  She flops down on a chair, and looks around again.

 

Narcissa also takes a seat, and she looks curiously at Hermione.  Luna and Harry seem to be too stunned to move even the slightest bit.

  
 _Probably they were here the whole time..._

             
Finally Luna breaks the tense silence.  “You ran into Blue Jackets and she saved your life, didn’t she?”

  
 _Well, I have certainly never thought of it like that before, but...it’s true....I really need to talk to her._ Hermione sighs resignedly.

             
“Basically yes.  After I settled everything I wanted, Bellatrix pointed out that a wizard was watching me.  He was a lone Blue Jacket, following us, but he didn’t recognise me.  We got into a fight, and Bellatrix cut his throat from behind...  With a dagger...  Did you know that your sister has one?”

 

“No, but I am not surprised.”

 

“She is a fighter, she said this.  And she carries herself as such.  She lost her magic, but she is still a very powerful ally.  We shouldn’t underestimate her.”  Here Hermione looks at her friends.  Luna just nods, like she has always known this, Harry just stares at her strangely but he doesn’t say a word.  All four of them sit in silence for a while, until Narcissa breaks it.

 

“Do you mind if I heal your cuts?”  Hermione looks down at herself, she has forgotten about them.

  
“Go ahead.”

 

Narcissa steps up to her, briefly examines both injuries, slightly moves her wand, and without uttering a spell heals them.  Hermione touches her arm in wonder.

 

_The skin isn't even tender...I guess talent definitely runs in the family then..._

Right at this moment a loud bang from the front door interrupts Hermione’s musings then Han’s deep voice can be heard.

             
“Mia!  A hand please?  Your brother is dying here!”  Han’s slightly melodramatic tendencies never fail to lighten up Hermione’s mood, so she walks to him smiling, greets him and takes a few bags out of his hands.  They return to the kitchen and put everything down on the table.

 

“Alright.”  Han begins.  “Good news is that I could get everything that you are going to need...”

  
“And the bad?”  Harry’s voice mirrors the dread creeping up on everybody’s spine.

  
“Um, well, you see...” Han clears his throat then begins anew.  “My friends told me, that the police are going to build a blockade around the town, meaning the traffic leaving the town is going to be controlled.  It is said they are searching for terrorists...  But I believe your Blue Jackets are behind it.”       

  
“Bloody hell.”

  
“I second that Mr. Potter.  However do not fret until you see me!”  He slaps Harry at his shoulder and playfully winks at Luna.  “We are going to need around an hour to create your disguises, a half hour for me to finish your passports, so in two hours we could leave, and you can catch the last train to Paris today.  Of course, I took the time of potential controls in consideration too.”  He smiles brightly at the little company and embraces his sister’s shoulder.  Hermione ruffles his hair affectionately and asks.

  
“Han, what exactly did you hear?  Are they searching for a specific person, or just found something suspicious, and want to investigate it?”

  
“They have no idea that either of you are here, otherwise the wanted posters with your faces would be all over the town already.  I think they are just stabbing blindly into the bushes, hoping that the right bunny will jump out...”

 

“What do we do?”

  
“Hmm, I have to put the synthetic skin on Mr. Potter’s forehead, you have no experience with the stuff.  And I think I can dye Ms. Black’s and Ms. Lovegood’s hair too, since someone magical needs to heal Bellatrix’s teeth...  All right, let’s do this.  Mia, go to Bellatrix, take care of her, and I am helping everybody else.  When I am finished with Ms. Lovegood, I’m going to send her to you, so she can cut your hair.”

 

He rummages through the bags, pushes two into Hermione’s hands, kisses her forehead and says with a smile.  “Now, off you go, love!  And don’t forget.”  He pauses, clearly for the effect’s sake, clears his throat and whispers in a raspy, elderly voice.  _“Do, or do not.  There is no try.”_   He smiles goofily at Hermione and eagerly waits for her reaction.  Hermione right out laughs at his antics.

  
“Brother dearest, you have certainly gotten better at your Yoda voice!”  They are ginning at each other for a few moments, ignoring the strange looks they are getting from Narcissa and Luna.  Finally Hermione turns around and goes upstairs.

 

She takes a deep breath before knocking on Bellatrix’s door.  She has to tread very carefully if she doesn’t want to further antagonise the witch.  Hermione steps in, closes the door, puts everything down and walks up to Bellatrix.  She is looking out of the window, and she shows no indication that she wants to turn to Hermione.

 

“Bellatrix?”  The older woman is motionless in her rigid posture.

             
 _That isn't going to be enough..._ She sighs then blurts out.  “Can you teach me?”

 

The brown haired woman whirls around and looks at Hermione with disbelief and shock written on her face.  Obviously, she wasn’t counting on a sentence like that.  She cocks her eyebrow, folds her arms, tilts her head slightly to the side.  Her body language can be easily translated:  _What do you mean?_

“Like you said, you were Voldemort’s first lieutenant, you were one of the best duellists in the British wizarding world.  You lost your magic, yet you _knew_ , that he was a wizard, and you could foretell his next step during the duel, and you knew how I was going to react to it.  Frankly, I think you could teach me _a lot_...”

 

Bellatrix bites her bottom lip, and uneasily looks to the floor.

 

“Look, I know you can’t show me in practice how eventual new spells work, or I can’t duel with you, but your vast knowledge about most, even the rare types of magical theory, and about applied magic makes you a lethal enemy, and a powerful ally, even without your magic.”

 

Bellatrix thoughtfully rubs at her chin then looks up at Hermione.  The bushy haired witch can barely contain her excitement at the possibility of learning something new.  Plus this deal could have another advantage too, apart from the obvious.  Teaching magic could help Bellatrix to feel less lost, open new perspectives for her, she could learn more about herself too, and as a result, it could help her find her balance and be less insecure.  Because despite her earlier words, Hermione can’t deny that the brunette is sometimes unsure how to act.

 

The older witch offers her hand for Hermione to shake it, when the younger woman takes it, the by now familiar voice fills her head.

             
' _Alright.  You are right, somebody who can actually do magic in our group, should know a few things.  And you are not that bad to begin with...'_

“Hmm, that last sentence of yours sounds awfully lot like a compliment...”  The young witch remarks with a cheeky smile.       

  
' _Whatever.'_  Bellatrix returns with a small smirk.

 

“Ah, apropos your teeth!  My brother said we have to leave this afternoon.  He suspects that the Blue Jackets are cooperating with the muggle police, since the outgoing traffic is said to be controlled.  However they don’t have anything concrete against us.  But it does mean that we have to act quickly, before we are walking into a trap.  So we are going to alter our appearances now.  The others are downstairs with my brother, and I am going to help you.  Do you have any objections?”

 

Bellatrix immediately goes pale, Hermione feels her hand slightly shaking, and her eyes are wandering around the room, as if she were searching for an escape route.  Hermione takes a deep breath, clenches and unclenches her free hand a few times, before hesitantly lifting it to Bellatrix’s cheek.

 

She is slowly getting used to touching her hand, since this is the only way to communicate with the brown haired woman.  Besides, the more time she spends in her company, the more obvious the differences between Bella Black and Death Eater Lestrange get.  However willingly touching her _not_ on her hand makes the young Gryffindor still uneasy.

 

She forces her hand not to tremble, and brushes her fingers against Bellatrix’s cheekbone, stilling her movement when the brunette stops fidgeting.

  
“Look at me.”  Bellatrix reluctantly lifts her eyes.  “I’m not going to judge, nor pity you, no matter what.  And I am not going to tell anybody what I see.  Do you understand?”  Bellatrix nods slowly, staring into Hermione’s serious lighter brown eyes.  Her posture changes, she relaxes slightly, but her furrowed brows indicate that she is still uneasy.  Seeing this Hermione supplies.

  
“I could ward the door if you want me to...”       

  
' _Yes!'_

             
“Alright, take a quick shower and meet me here.”  Bellatrix leaves the room, and the young witch takes a few minutes to think through what she has to do, before driving to the train station.  She summons her black messenger bag, puts the small blue bag that she retrieved today out of the stone in it.  Hermione goes to her own bedroom, changes into more comfortable cloths and puts her hair up in a ponytail for the last time.  She smiles at the melodramatic thought.

 

 _Again on the run..._ She tiredly rubs at her eyes.  _No matter how many times I have to do this, leave a person or a place behind with the quite serious possibility of never coming back, it never gets easier..._ She squares her shoulders, because now it’s not the time for sentimental thoughts, she needs to think rationally.

 

With a few flicks of her wand she packs away all her possessions.  Most personal things go into her beaded bag, and everything else that could be used while being on the run, in the bigger black one.  She then drops her small bag into her messenger bag too.  Hermione sits down on her bed, next to a sleeping Crookshanks, she begins to pat her cat.

 

“Hey buddy, I have to flee – again, and I have to leave you here with Han.  Take care of my brother, he is going to love you because you are my cat, and you are going to have an easy life here.  But behave.  If you see something suspicious, alert him, because once again dark times are rising.  I know you are smart, I’m counting on you Crooks.”

 

The cat sits up, puts his paw on Hermione’s thigh, and proceeds to, well Hermione can’t otherwise interpret but showing off his claws, without hurting her of course.

 

“Thank you bud.”  She pets him once more then goes to Bellatrix’s room.  On the way there she leafs through a book about magical scars, maybe there is some information that she somehow, miraculously has forgotten since the last time she read the book at the beginning of summer.  But of course she can’t find anything new.  With a sigh she puts it away.

 

Bellatrix is already waiting for her, barefoot, in her long shelved black dress, but this time without her corset.  Her hair is still wet, she is uneasily biting on her lower lip, and her arms are tightly crossed on her abdomen in a defensive position.  Hermione wards the door and slowly walks up to her.

 

“I’m not going to lie, it’s going to hurt.”  She rummages in her bag, and puts a small empty bottle, the Skele-Grow Potion and gauze on the desk.  She pulls out the chair.  “Please, have a seat.”  Bellatrix sits down, and she immediately begins to fidget.

             
“Don’t worry, I am going to tell you what I am about to do every time, so you can prepare yourself.”  Bellatrix nods.

             
“Do you have any other tattoos apart from the two obvious ones?”  Hermione casually offers her hand, indicating that this time she wants a ‘verbal’ answer.  Bellatrix hesitantly takes her hand.

  
' _No.'_

             
“All right, now I have to see your neck and your arms, everything else is going to be covered with clothes.  May I vanish the arms of your dress?”  Bellatrix is still hesitant, but then with a soundless sigh she says.

  
' _Yes, let’s get on with this.'_

With a flick of her wand Hermione is met with Bellatrix’s white skin.  The dark mark is still on her left forearm, unmoving.  Around both of her wrists are wide angry scarring, the skin there is already as white as the surrounding area, indicating that these are old injuries, most likely from the shackles in Azkaban.  Hermione glides her eyes upwards, there are several old bite marks on both of Bellatrix’s arms, but apart from these Hermione can’t see any new injuries.

 

She knows how insecure Bellatrix is about her scars, so she strictly holds onto her logical mind.  She doesn’t think about them, apart from calculating her possibilities to heal them.

 

She leans back, rubs at her chin, and decides what to do.  Bellatrix isn’t meeting her eyes, she is staring at the desk, resigned, waiting for the worst to happen.  “I think I can help you.”  Hearing Hermione’s neutral tone of voice, and no pitying or judgemental sentences, she snaps her head up and looks curiously at her.  Seeing Hermione’s thoughtful expression makes Bellatrix stare at her in utter disbelief.

 

“I’m surprised the Dark Mark didn’t vanish or leave a scar behind after His death...”  Hermione runs her fingers over the feared tattoo in a bizarre fascination, without ever realising it, until she can hear Bellatrix’s thoughts.

             
' _When he died, the burning in the tattoo wasn't exactly a pleasant sensation, trust me.'_

             
“I can remove the ink from under your skin, and on your neck too, but it’s going to be painful.”

  
' _I don't really care, I just want them both gone, by now they are nothing more than reminders of an old life that holds me down...'_

  
“I see...  About the bite marks...  Were those caused by the rats in your cell?”

             
Bellatrix looks away uneasily, but answers nevertheless.  ' _Yes.'_

             
“I have a theory that I want to try, I might be able to heal those scars, but I can’t promise you anything...”

  
' _How?  I have already tried everything, and no offence, but...'_

             
“Yes, I know, you are more experienced, but I think my idea could work.  However I have one last question...  The scars on your wrists... Your shackles in Azkaban...  They were enchanted, weren’t they?”           

  
' _Yes, I could feel some kind of charm on it that prevented the infection of our raw skin... so we don't die too fast...'_

  
“Meaning it’s a magical scar...I’m afraid I can’t do anything about it, I am nowhere near as skilled as your sister in healing.  Maybe you should show her them once we are in France, and she might be able to do something about it.  I think even if she couldn’t manage to heal them completely, the scars being fainter would mean a lot to you...  What do you say?”

             
' _I...I, have never shown them anybody...'_

             
“I understand.  Well let’s begin.  I am going to remove the ink, and for that I have to cut your skin...”

  
' _Do it.'_

Hermione carefully slices Bellatrix’s arm, right above the Mark, quickly summons the ink, banishes it into the empty bottle on the desk, and heals the wound before the brown haired woman can lose more blood.  The skin is still new, slightly pink, but apart from this the hated tattoo is vanished.  Hermione repeats the procedure on Bellatrix’s neck.

 

“And now to the bite marks.  I assume you cast every healing spell you could on them.  However, by then the wounds were already healed naturally, and you can't heal something that is healthy in the first place.  So my idea is, to concentrate the magic around the scars, forcing the marred cells to copy them, rather than searching for damaged cell structure that could be repaired like a usual healing spell would work...”

 

Bellatrix immediately perks up, and looks almost giddily at Hermione.  ' _That really could work!  Why didn't I think of something like this?  Never mind, try it already!'_  She pauses then.  ' _Uh, please?'_

 

 Hermione rolls her eyes at the witch, but begins to concentrate on the first scar.  Bellatrix is watching her with rapt attention, and when the scar vanishes, she laughs out happily.

 

Hermione stares at her strangely, her soundless laugh and her obvious happiness, makes her uneasy on how she should react.  So she just settles for stating the obvious.

 

“It works.”  She allows herself a smug little smile, before she heals all the bite marks.  “And now it’s your teeth’s turn.  I am going to magically remove the...uh, unhealthy parts of your teeth, which isn’t going to leave many behind, but I am going to give you the potion, and that should grow them back healthy.  Then I have to make your teeth even and perfect.  But the only reason for this is that your smile is very distinctive, and if we left your teeth in the position they are now, even healed, you could be easily recognised.  I am not doing this because of some social pressure that makes everybody believe the only beautiful smile is a perfectly even one.  Healthy teeth are beautiful, no matter how they stand...”

 

Bellatrix rolls her eyes and puts her hand on Hermione’s impatiently.

             
' _Granger, don't fret, it was my choice to leave them this way.  You are not hurting my feelings, but get on with it already.'_

  
Hermione huffs at the annoying woman, but doesn’t say anything apart from.  “Open your mouth.”

 

 _Oh, this is definitely going to take longer than I imagined..._ By the time she finished removing the unhealthy parts, Bellatrix’s eyes are tightly shut, but there is nothing else that would indicate the pain she must be in.  She gives her the potion.

 

While Hermione is waiting for it to work, she brings the bags containing their outfits to the desk and peers in them.  When she sees what Han has chosen for Bellatrix, she freezes.  _Well, at least no Star Wars themed t-shirts...  But this too is going to be interesting..._ She turns back to Bellatrix, when she sees that the witch’s expression relaxes, she knows the potion worked.

 

“The last part doesn’t take that much time, I should be finished in a bit.”  She tries to reassure the brunette, who is eyeing her suspiciously, clearly, she doesn’t trust her with her teeth.

 

Hermione rolls her eyes, and then says in a semi-mocking, playful voice.  “Bloody hell woman, it’s just a quick adjustment.  Chin up warrior!”  Bellatrix glares at her slightly annoyed but opens her mouth nevertheless.  True to her word, Hermione finishes fast.

 

“Done.”  She conjures up a mirror and gives it to Bellatrix.  When the brunette opens her mouth to have a look, she immediately stares at her reflection in utter disbelief.  Then a wide smile lights up her whole face, even her eyes...and suddenly Hermione is taken aback.

 

The sight is so... _different_.  Not just because of her teeth, but because of the sincerity of her smile, the warmth in her eyes too.  This is the moment when Hermione realises for the first time that she is staring at Bella, not Bellatrix Black, and absolutely not Bellatrix Lestrange.  Hermione clears her throat awkwardly, points at the desk.  “There are your clothes, put them on then we can finish.”

 

She turns her back to Bellatrix, and stares out of the window.  She has never felt as conflicted as now in all her life...  Once again she is leaving behind everything, her reality is ripped apart...  In a way she feels like she has failed her brother, the only person, whom she thought she would never leave in the lurch.  She can not protect him, she can’t prevent him from being hurt if she stayed here.  She can not prevent the war torn, cruel, harsh nightmare that has become her life, invading and destroying his.

 

Hermione vows to herself, that she would try her best to fight against Selach.  Not only for her own freedom, and the freedom of everything she thought was beautiful in the wizarding world, but for her brother to be proud of her too.  She wants to walk under the sun, with head held high, knowing that she has done her best to try to give the wizarding world a new opportunity to change, not to systematically evade and destroy lives.

 

She is conflicted because even though her little company and she are at the beginning of this new journey, everybody seems to be already broken.

 

Harry, who finished and successfully survived the only task he was preparing his whole life to do, feels cheated at best.  She can’t even imagine, what he must have been feeling.  His love was taken away from him, the family he was slowly accepting as his own, turned their back on him, betrayed him or simply just disappeared.  The saviour of the world who is threatened with being swallowed by said world.  She has no idea what is left for him to fight for...  Yet, he came here searching for her, and he is again ready to fight.  Most likely by now out of habit of the last 7 years, but still.

 

And Luna, sweet, odd Luna, who has lost her family, yet she somehow still was able to hold onto herself, and her unique way of life...  She is the only person Hermione knows who is able to dream her own reality, and live it to some extent.  But when the reality, on which she bases her own, becomes too harsh, or her friends are threatened, she stands up and fights, with all her almost scary brilliance, loyalty, and refreshing oddity.

 

Hermione rubs tiredly at her eyes, when she thinks of the remaining two persons in her little ‘company’.

  
Narcissa, who easily kicked decades, if not generations worth of bigotry into the wind, the moment she could act, and finally protect her family.  The woman, whose love for her son and sister would even make the great Dumbledore stare in awe.  The woman, whose wrath and blood thirst would be beyond imaginable if anything happened to Draco or Bellatrix.

 

And Bellatrix herself, who lost her magic, her ability to speak, who was tortured, everything she has ever believed in was robbed from her.  Yet here she is, she wants to discover who she really is, she wants to open up, and she apparently wants to right her wrongs somehow.  And she is ready to go against a magical army with a bloody dagger because she is a warrior.

 

Lastly Hermione herself.  Since the end of the war, well...she manages.  The loss of her parents, being on the run for almost a year, her torture and the cruelties of the war itself have changed her forever.  She is still picking up the pieces of her broken self and putting them together into something new.  So she manages.  However she can’t even comprehend what exactly it means to her to be this close to the woman who tortured her, who still rules her nightmares, whose presence still frightens her sometimes, and whom she has to accept now as an ally.

 

 _A very...interesting company to fight against a dictatorship, indeed..._ Her smile is slightly bitter, but determined.  She is Hermione bloody Granger, muggle-born Gryffindor know it all, 19 year old and already a war veteran.

 

 _Selach thinks I am the most dangerous enemy because of my brilliance?  Well, he still has no idea what is about to hit him...  He_ will _go down.  That’s all._

Bellatrix notices the radical change in the young woman’s posture, the energy radiating off of her, makes her almost rule the whole room just with her mere presence.  She hesitantly taps on Hermione’s shoulder, and when the young woman turns, the almost feverish determination in her eyes makes Bellatrix take a step back.  The most remarkable thing about the young witch is, that simply by looking at her Bellatrix somehow believes that Hermione could make happen whatever she set her mind to.

 

Hermione takes in Bellatrix’s extremely different appearance.  She is still barefoot, but she has a pair of fitting blue jeans on, and a red band t-shirt.  She is uneasily tugging at the hem of her shirt, obviously feeling discomfort.  Hermione puts her hand on Bellatrix’s, stopping the movement.

  
“Good, I see you've changed...”

  
' _Why would muggles write stones on a shirt and put a mouth with tongue hanging out under it?  It doesn't fit.  And how can you move in these trousers?  And...'_

             
“Easy there.  Those trousers are called jeans, and they are quite comfortable once you get used to them.  About your t-shirt, well it’s a muggle music shirt, the band is called Rolling Stones and that particular pair of lips are their symbol.  Once we are in Paris, we could get you new clothes...”

 

Bellatrix ignores her last sentence, and interrupts her hastily.  ' _Music you said?  Can you show me?'_

  
Hermione is momentarily taken aback by the eagerness in her voice and her wide excited eyes, but nods uncertainly, still in a bit of daze.  “I suppose, if you want me to...”

 

The older witch’s excited nodding just makes Hermione stare at her even more disbelievingly, until she finally snaps out of her shock and claps her hands.

  
“Now, let’s get on with your hair, we don’t have much time left, and I still have to get ready.  Take a seat please.”  Bellatrix flops down, as unladylike as ever.  Hermione summons the flat iron from the bathroom, and for a while she just stares at Bellatrix.

  
“Your hair...um...how shall I put it nicely?  Have you ever broken a comb in it?”  She smiles cheekily at Bellatrix.

  
She finds, it’s easier for her to get used to the older woman’s presence if she can tease her every now and then.  Bellatrix would have a witty come back, and that compared to the certain and painful death her former self would have unleashed upon anybody who dared to make fun of her, is beyond a pleasant change.

             
Bellatrix stares at her in disbelief.  Her expression clearly supplying.  _Excuse me?  You are one to talk?!_

  
“Fair point.”  Hermione murmurs, as if she had actually heard that sentence, and with that she begins to straighten Bellatrix’s hair.  It certainly is disturbing to see Bellatrix’s dark brown curly locks lose their trademark character, add her current outfit to the picture, and the sight is beyond shocking, it’s surreal.  Her hair has always been long, but now, straightened out it reaches beyond Bellatrix’s hips.

 

“I am sorry.”  Hermione breaks the silence while she is finishing up.  Bellatrix looks curiously at her.  She lightly touches Hermione’s hand.

             
 _'What for?'_

             
“For earlier.  I didn’t mean to imply that you were helpless.  It’s just...somehow you are our ally now, a part of our little group.  And when we were out together, I felt like I am responsible for keeping you unharmed because I can do magic.  I don’t take kindly to failing my responsibilities, I am an overachiever at heart, and if you happened to get killed yourself, well I would have been disappointed...”

                         
' _Good to see how much you care...  You certainly can compartmentalise...'_ Remarks Bellatrix dryly.

  
“Hey!  It’s not even two days that we are on ‘not-killing-each-other’ terms, not to mention speaking terms, I am trying here, but I still need more time.”

             
' _You are right, I shouldn't have...'_

             
“No, let’s not speak about that please.”  She clears her throat.  “However I wanted to apologise for underestimating you.  I should have known better that you are still a fighter, with or without magic...”

  
' _And don't forget, I am a Slytherin too.  I don't run off on suicide missions for foolish heroism’s sake, unlike Gryffindors.  If I deem the situation manageable, I am going to step up and act, otherwise well, there is strategic retreat or I always could leave the job to some Gryffindors that I know...'_

They both stick their tongues out at each other at the same time, but they both know that behind the rather childish gesture, they have an understanding.

 

Hermione slaps Bellatrix shoulder, just for good measure then says.  “You are ready, warrior!”

 

Bellatrix stands up and looks down at her wrists and her bare feet.  “Well, maybe not.. .”

 

Hermione summons a pair of extremely worn green-dirty white pair of trainers, a pair of socks and two bandannas out of her messenger bag.  She offers the shoes and the socks to Bellatrix, who stares bewildered at her, her eyes flicking down to the old, holey pair of shoes.

  
“Trust me, it’s less obvious that you just had a makeover, if you wear something used too.”

 

Bellatrix puts them on then Hermione binds the colourful bandannas around her wrists.  She gives her a pair of sunglasses too...and the resulting sight speaks for itself.  With her long straightened hair down, in a pair of worn jeans, trainers, a red band t-shirt, and sunglasses covering her eyes, well Bellatrix could easily pass as a singer in any recent rock bands.

 

_Except she can’t even speak, but well...details._

 

Hermione’s musings are interrupted by a knock on the door.  She lifts her wards, and Luna walks in.

  
“Hermione Granger!  You are a horrible brother so far!  I have never had a brother or sister before, and now when I can experience it, you keep me waiting!  Hurry UP!  I am positive that I am agitating the poor nargles with my impatience!  And that just won’t do, after all they are wonderful creatures!”

 

With this the Ravenclaw picks up a strand of her newly dyed light brown hair and turns it towards the sunlight to stare at it with a concentrated expression on her face.

 

Both Bellatrix and Hermione are frozen to the spot, a common effect of Luna’s uniqueness and rather interesting view of life.  Hermione is gaping at her friend, several times opening her mouth to say something, but she is unable to.  Finally she snaps out of her dazed state, when Bellatrix reaches out, without taking her eyes off of Luna and blindly presses her fingertips against Hermione’s bare forearm.

 

_'She is one of a kind, isn't she?'_

“You are _never_ going to get used to her, don’t worry.”  Hermione whispers back.  “But after a while you are going to anticipate the element of surprise she brings into everybody’s life.”

 

The young witch clears her throat then looks at Luna, who is already wearing her lenses, her eyes lost their familiar grey colour, they are now almost bottle green.  Hermione supposes Han got the same lenses for Narcissa and her too.

 

“That, Luna was by far the strangest thing you have ever said.  And that is quite an achievement I must add.”  She smiles, showing she is just teasing the bubbly former blonde.  “All right, you can cut my hair in the bathroom.”

 

Luna stands up wordlessly and walks out with her typical dance-like soft steps.  However her usual uniqueness has considerably less effect, without her preferred multi-coloured, miss-matching outfits.  Luna Lovegood _is_ a disturbing sight in plain, for her standards bordering on boring clothes.  She is wearing a black pair of sandals, black shorts and a mint green blouse without any jewellery.  However she has already managed to steal one of those yellow flowers she was so fascinated with and fixed it to her blouse somehow.

 

Hermione is still slightly disturbed by Luna’s appearance and by her words.  She begins to follow her, but a sudden movement by Bellatrix, she grabbed Hermione’s elbow, makes her jump involuntary, before she regains her bearings, her wand is already drawn, and she took two steps away from the brown haired woman.  Trying to calm down, she takes a few deep breaths and repeats to herself a few times that there was nothing threatening in Bellatrix’s gesture.  _Hopefully_.  This thought makes her study the older woman’s face uneasily.

 

Bellatrix’s cheeks are a light red, she is biting her lower lip and she isn’t lifting her eyes off of the floor.  Hermione rubs her eyes.  _This really is going to take a lot of getting used to..._ She sighs then walks nearer, silently offering her hand.  Bellatrix looks up, into lighter brown eyes, silently asking for permission, when Hermione doesn’t move her hand, she softly touches her fingers against the Gryffindor’s palm.

 

_'I, I didn't know how to get your attention...I’m sorry.  I didn't mean to...  Next time I am going to clap my hands or, or...'_

 

Hermione cuts her off.

 

“It’s all right.  It’s not your fault....  Well, actually the me being jumpy at best is your fault.”

 

Bellatrix eyes widen for a moment then she shuts them tightly, as if she were experiencing an exceptionally painful blow.  Which she probably is on an emotional level...  However Hermione puts her fingers under Bellatrix’s chin, lifts her head up, making eye contact with the older woman.  She forces a playful smirk on her face, despite not feeling nowhere near in the mood for it, but she wants to show Bellatrix she _is_ coping with the past, ready to put _that_ night behind herself, ready to crack yes, miserable but nevertheless jokes about her more than complicated connection with Bellatrix.

 

“But let’s not go there.  We are a team now, and we are moving on, remember?”  She waits till Bellatrix hesitantly nods.

 

Then her face becomes serious again.  “And please, don’t ever try to apologise for having to touch me to get me to listen to you when you want to say something.  Your silence is _not_ your fault, _nor_ your choice, don’t apologise for it _ever_!  Do you understand?”  Bellatrix is staring at her wide eyed, slightly dumbfounded, but she nods.  Hermione fumbles over her next words.

 

“Um, yes, well...your unexpected beginning of the conversation does make me jump out of my skin and move automatically to a defensive position, but I think, with time I could get used to you being near me.”  She pauses.  “What did you want to say?”

 

Bellatrix’s cheeks again blush slightly, and she lowers her eyes self-consciously.  ' _Just...can I wait for you here?  So we can go downstairs...as the team we are now?  I really don't...  It’s so strange...  I feel out of place almost everywhere, but now it’s even worse...'_

“Brother, come on!”  They suddenly hear Luna shouting.

             
Now Hermione is the one who blushes.  She clears her throat, rolls her eyes and whispers to Bellatrix.

  
“There are no words.  Seriously none.  She surely is beyond enthusiastic about this.  Hmm, I wonder what she has done to _our_ _older sister_ downstairs...”  At this they glance at each other and they both burst out laughing.

  
Hermione snatches her own bag with her new clothes.  “All right, I'm going to meet you here in a few.”  And with that she leaves the room.

 

Luna is re-arranging the positions of the plants in the bathroom, all the while softly humming.  When Hermione enters, she motions her to sit down and begins to cut her hair wordlessly.

 

 _Surviving a war, getting a tattoo, beginning a new life as wizarding Britain’s most Wanted in exile, and trying to bring down a dictator while teaming up with the Black sisters...  Yes, a new haircut is definitely needed..._ Nevertheless, she doesn’t dare to glance up and see her own image in the mirror.  She is slightly... _concerned_ about, what exactly Luna deems as an acceptable haircut.

 

“You know I have never been able to see her true colour.  Whenever I met her until two days ago, her colour was always drowning in the darkest endless night...  And now I am never going to be able to see what her colour was, since she is shattered.  But I still can see the elements of her original colour around her, in her, so many shades, it’s quite a beautiful sight.”

 

Hermione, naturally at first has no idea what Luna is speaking about, but then.  “You mean Bellatrix and her magical signature...  I don’t know how she was before, I have just recently developed the ability to sense signatures.  Why are you telling me this?”

  
“You should ask her about the darkness.”

  
“What?”  Hermione looks up at Luna in the mirror.  Luna meets her eyes.           

  
“The colours have changed, Hermione.  Ask her.”  With that she puts the scissors down, and walks out with dance-like, dreamy steps, picking up humming again.

 

Hermione just stares at the spot where Luna disappeared.  Finally she regains her composure and looks up at her image in the mirror, and she is immediately... _shocked_.  She has always had long hair, and now seeing herself without it for the first time makes her feel naked, exposed.  But the more she looks at herself, the better she feels.  To her endless relief, Luna did a wonderful job.  Or at least Hermione knows this is the best her friend could do for her.  Years worth of experience fighting against her impossible hair taught her to appreciate every little non-magical success that could result in Hermione herself having a say as to how her hair should look for once.

 

The young witch runs her hand a few times through her hair, she is trying to force it into some kind of order, but to her immense dismay, she has to discover that her now about three inches long hair decided to live it's own life without the previous weight pulling it downwards.

 

Every strand of her bushy hair quite literally stands, not hangs, and naturally each one of them goes in a different direction.  With a defeated sigh Hermione quickly takes her shower.

 

She dries herself off with a towel, and takes out everything from the bag Han has given her.  After a bit of rummaging she finds the breast binds.  The young witch stares at it, feeling the material between the tips of her fingers, getting familiar with it.  She looks up at the mirror, stares into her own eyes, and slowly begins to wind it around her ribcage.  She watches her own movements with rapt attention and with no small amount of fascination over how many emotions can be awoken by a small piece of cloth.

 

As her chest begins to go flat, Hermione methodically sorts, organizes her emotions and thoughts, this is after all, what she has always done.

             
The rational part of her brain is determined, collected, she knows she has to do this if she wants to leave the country without being discovered.  It was a logical decision, since this way she can help the others also cement their stories, make them more believable.

             
Another part of her is excited.  She is positive that this experience is going to change her in some way or another, she wants to see where this could lead, what exactly this change could mean.  Most likely, once she can afford time for herself, she is going to think about society, its pressure upon everybody to fit into roles, the declared power it has about almost everyone’s body, without people even realizing it.  Maybe once this whole ordeal with Selach is over she could find books by muggle philosophers about body and power, this certainly is a research-worthy subject.  Besides, if she happens to see the end of this repressive system, she sincerely doubts that she is going to return to the wizarding world.

             
All in all, Hermione is calm.

 

She finishes the binding, she slowly runs her palms down her now flat chest, and gets lost in the difference for a moment.  Then she turns to the remaining pile of clothes and searches for some kind of underwear.

  
 _Of course.  Trust Han to buy me a pair of Star Wars themed boxer shorts...  Well, at least it isn't obvious, plus it could have been worse._

  
She puts the pair of comfortably lose fitting black trousers on, that obviously gives her the... _benefit of the doubt in certain places_.  She chooses one of her own brown leather belts, and her old extremely worn red-white pair of trainers.  Hermione rolls her eyes at the revoltingly Slytherin green t-shirt Han bought her, but the rich red coloured shirt she has finished her outfit with does pacify her inner Gryffindor.

 

She rolls up her sleeves, showing off her tattoo.  Harry’s, her best friend’s reaction to it this morning is the perfect example why she should do this.  Or so she justifies this to herself.

 

After all nobody is counting on Hermione Granger, Gryffindor’s somewhat rule-breaker princess to get herself inked.  With a flick of her wand she cleans the bathroom and with a last annoyed look in the mirror at her stubborn hair, she walks back to Bellatrix.

 

The older woman immediately turns to face her as soon as Hermione opened the door.  Her eyes widen at the sight of the young witch, but before Hermione was able to see what exactly was running through Bellatrix’s mind, she schools her features into a small smile.  She offers her hand to Hermione when their fingers meet, the soft, but now somewhat teasing whispering voice ghosts in the young woman’s head once again.

 

_'Your hair...well to put it mildly, it defies gravity.'_

Hermione groans.  “I am never going to live this down, am I?”

             
' _I think not...'_

             
“Well, at least, now that you are a part of our little group, I can always look at you and be assured that it can be worse...”  She cheekily grins at Bellatrix.

             
' _Hey!  Take that back this instant!  I will have you know that my hair is prefect the way it is!'_ She sticks her tongue out at Hermione.

             
“Sure, sure Black, whatever you say.”  She is still grinning.  “However, we still have to put our lenses in, let’s do it.”

 

She conjures a mirror and shows Bellatrix how to do it, after they both successfully changed the colours of their eyes, Hermione asks.  “Do you have everything?  Your cloak, your dagger?  Oh, apropos weapon, you might want to give me that, we could be stopped by the muggle police and a long knife could raise questions.  I have charmed my bag, so...”

 

Bellatrix offers it wordlessly, albeit more than a bit reluctantly.  Hermione snatches her bag and begins to walk away.

  
“Hmm, I’m positive everybody is going to be shocked by your new appearance.”

 

Remembering that Bellatrix was previously quite uneasy about this, she waits for her to catch up.  As if she was purposely confirming Hermione’s suspicions, Bellatrix is hugging herself worrying her lower lip.

             
“Bellatrix, look at me.”  When she hesitantly meets her eyes, Hermione continues.  “Nobody is going to judge you.  I think with this new appearance, you make the difference between you and your former self even more evident.  I mean, we all knew that you changed, otherwise we wouldn’t have become allies, but now this change of yours wandered to the outside so to speak, and it’s even more obvious.  Even, if this look isn’t your new self, since you are still searching for that, but this is a first step in your new life...  Don’t worry, you can do that enough once we reach the station.  Are you all right?”

             
Bellatrix nods slowly and hesitantly reaches out for Hermione’s hand.  ' _Thank you.  For everything.   After...'_

             
“Nuh-huh, don’t go there, and don’t mention it.  We are supposed to move on, aren’t we?  If you insist we can talk about it, but please not now...”

  
' _All right.'_

             
Bellatrix moves to pull her hand away, but Hermione takes it slowly.  She concentrates on her breathing for a few moments, trying to mask her discomfort, but then she looks at Bellatrix.

 

 Answering her silent question.  “We are supposed to be girlfriends, I mean... yesm well...”

 

Bellatrix stares at her with a curious expression and hesitantly nods once again.

 

They slowly walk down hand in hand to meet the others.

 


	7. Denial, fridge, car and water

**Wanted** **  
Chapter 7 – Denial, fridge, car and water**

As Hermione and Bellatrix are about to enter the kitchen, Hermione suddenly stops in front of the door, she is biting her bottom lip absentmindedly.  She doesn’t even notice that her unexpected movement made the older witch, who is still holding her hand, halt in her tracks too.

Bellatrix tilts her head, looks curiously at the bushy haired young woman.  Hermione is still lost in her thoughts, staring at the wooden surface in front of her.  She slowly runs her free hand through her short hair, then drops it to her ribcage and begins to rub at her now flat chest, running her fingers over her binds...  She obviously has no idea what she is doing. 

At this, Bellatrix simply just _has_ to lift her brow...  She slowly, cautiously tugs at Hermione’s hand so she doesn’t startle her, just snap the young witch out of her musings.  Hermione flinches, closes her eyes, concentrates on relaxing her body then lifts her gaze to meet Bellatrix’s fake-blue one.

_How absurd... Bellatrix Black with blue eyes..._

Meeting Hermione’s eyes, seeing the turmoil in them makes the older witch uncomfortable, she nervously tugs at the hem of her t-shirt then –as if she has decided something- again looks questioningly at the young woman. 

Hermione exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping forward slightly.  
 _Well, we are a team now, I could as well tell her, besides it’s not like I would ever mention something like this to Luna or Harry..._

She turns, faces the dark brown haired witch:   
“I just...” She bites her lower lip then tries again: “Have you ever had a moment where you knew your next step is going to make everything... I suppose the best word would be... _real_?” At this Bellatrix lifts _both_ of her eyebrows, and Hermione thoughtfully adds:  
“I believe I know what you are thinking right now: ‘You killed 7 Blue Jackets, duelled another one, heard my sister, Luna and Harry, how more real do you want it to get?’ Plus there is you, Bellatrix, and the never mentioned things that must have been done to you...” She pauses, pretends that she doesn’t notice, how the older woman’s posture went suddenly extremely rigid, and runs her free hand once again through her short hair then continues to talk:

“I suppose you would be right asking me this, in a way...  It’s just, everything happened so fast.  In two days my whole world has been turned upside down, and I think, till this moment there must have been some kind of denial in me...  Despite everything what I have done, what I have been told, I guess there still lingered a small part in me that hoped, all this is just another nightmare, and I could wake up.  Struggle through it, but at the end with a deep gasp my eyes would snap open and I could begin a new day...  Panting, in cold sweat bathed, but nevertheless a new day with hope that maybe this day would be _the_ _day_.  The day that wouldn’t bring a nightmare, the day that the dreams would stop, the day that I wouldn’t flinch at sudden noises, the day that I wouldn’t be scared of the simplest human touches...”

She takes a deep breath then goes on:   
“The moment I am going to push the doorknob down, every denial, every hope however how small they were, are going to evaporate.  Every centimetre the opening door is going to make will be like a slap to my mind, my consciousness.  There won’t be any denial anymore, I _did_ kill those people, I _am_ a wanted _criminal_ , I _have to fight_ for my life, I _have_ to flee...I _have_ to protect what I cherish, I have to try to make a change...  Reality with all its deadweight is going to crush down on me.  However how small part of me denied unconsciously that a dictatorship is building in wizarding Britain, it did feed my hope.  And I am afraid that I could lose myself finally if my hope is crushed...  Maybe there are moments, when denial indeed could do some good...”

Bellatrix just stares at the young witch, her fake-blue eyes opened wide.  Seeing her like this makes Hermione sigh defeatedly.  
 _What was I thinking?  Who am I kidding, sharing something like this with Bellatrix Black of all people..._  
“You know what, never mind, we...”  
However the dark brown haired woman’s familiar whispering voice in her head interrupts her:

_‘I know that there is no way I could regain my magical abilities ever again, but sometimes, when I wake up, or when something happens with me that I want to share immediately, I forget that I can’t speak...  And I begin to talk to my sister excitedly...  You know what the first sign is that indicates the silence around me is still intact?’_

Hermione is just staring at the woman, she has never heard her talk this open, this freely, she doesn’t even attempt to answer the question.

_‘Her eyes.  The sadness, defeat and disappointment in herself washing over in her blue eyes...  I don’t even notice that I can’t hear myself, I am so used to the silence around me by now.  You know what I do next?’_   She doesn’t even pauses to let Hermione try to answer her question, her smoky deep whispering voice once again washes over Hermione’s mind:

_‘I embrace her and smile at her.  I am not denying my condition, I accept the impenetrable silence around me all over again, but I am not going to give up my hopes that one day I could say to my sister with my own voice: “Thank you.”’_

Bellatrix takes a deep breath, braces herself, hesitates just slightly before ‘voicing’ her actual point: _  
‘Denial never feeds hope Hermione, just illusion.  Hope can be found even in the most soul-destroying situations too.  And hope doesn’t define you as a person, it never does.  But the way how you find it again, or if you are searching for it in the first place, do define you.  Search for it, and never be afraid of losing hope or losing yourself.  Because you are always going to find hope as long as you don’t give up, and not giving up means to hold onto something that is uniquely you, so this way you can’t lose yourself either.  Never forget this Hermione.’_

Bellatrix is intently staring into Hermione’s fake-green eyes, her right hand still holds the younger woman’s hand, and while she was talking, her left wandered to Hermione’s chin, holding it gently but firmly in place, keeping the eye contact.

Hermione just looks at the woman in wonder...             
_I would have never thought, but this woman, Bella Black is seriously earning my respect...  It is really high time for me to learn to expect the unexpected when it comes to her...  I don’t even know how to answer her..._

So at the end she settles for something that especially caught her attention while the brunette was speaking:

“The silence around you isn’t impenetrable, Bellatrix.”  The older woman just stares at her disbelievingly.  Hermione continues with a small smile:  
“You can always talk to me.”  For a moment they share an intense gaze, until Hermione feels, she needs to break it, before it gets too much for her.  She playfully nudges the older woman with her shoulder who in turn just rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, however the corners of her mouth are turning upwards in a shy smile.

“And I have to say, you never fail to surprise me.   _Luckily_ , I must add!  I think, with time I might even learn to like that you and I are a team now, and forget about awaiting _that cackling madwoman_ jumping on me at every corner...”

To avoid addressing more difficult undertones in their current conversation, Hermione says the last part of her sentence as lightly and nonchalantly as she can manage, and flashes a small mischievous smile at Bellatrix.  However, she shouldn’t have worried about the possible guilt making the older woman shy away from her, the brunette seems to be preoccupied with the first part of Hermione’s sentence:

Bellatrix looks up at the younger witch, surprise, shock even, clearly written on her face.  When she sees the grinning Gryffindor and the playful look in her eyes, Bellatrix blushes, looks away and begins to tug at the hem of her t-shirt, once again.

_And here it goes, socially awkward Bella Black makes her appearance!_  
At this thought Hermione’s grin just widens.  Bellatrix of course doesn’t notice the younger woman’s amusement, her brows are furrowed, sheer concentration on her face, she is obviously trying to solve the mystery how to respond to an off-handed but oh-so important positive remark.  ‘Slightly’ sad but true reality is that fearsome Bellatrix Black simply has no idea how to come up with a small pleasantry...  And of course, Hermione finds this quite amusing.

At the end Bellatrix lets out a defeated, soundless sigh and meets Hermione’s eyes with a desperate look.  
 _‘I don’t know what to say...  In the last 30 years I never had to be polite and I certainly as hell wasn’t a pleasant person to be around.’_  She looks away, down at the tip of her shoes.  ‘ _I was just serving the Dark Lord, torturing and killing, being a petulant child in a mad woman’s body...  I think, my social skills might be rusty...’_   She uncertainly meets Hermione’s gaze, with a slightly pleading expression on her face.

Hermione playfully rolls her eyes, and says with a cheeky smile:     
“You _think_ , your social skills _might_ be rusty?  Well, by claiming that you have got any at all to begin with, you certainly give yourself more credit than any other person in wizarding Britain would have done...”

Bellatrix pulls a mock-outraged face and lightly slaps Hermione’s shoulder, but her eyes too are twinkling in amusement.

For both of them, sometimes when their conversations get too serious, or too close to home, it is a relief to fall back on their slowly developing playful banter.  Sometimes it’s easier to tease each other, because this is a way to avoid addressing the still lingering ghosts, memories around them, the things that weight down their relationship and their consciousness.  But on the other hand, this kind of behaviour gives both of them time to get used to this new situation they were thrown into, and most importantly get used to each other’s presence. 

This playful teasing for Hermione means that she has a way to cope with the thought that she is most likely going to spend a lot of time with one Ms. Black, plus their conversations whether serious or not constantly reminds her that Death Eater Lestrange doesn’t exist anymore, she can’t hurt her anymore (hopefully).  While she is teasing Bella Black she also can avoid subjects that she is still uncomfortable voicing around _anyone_ , not to mention around the one person who actually is responsible for most of her problems in the first place... 

Bellatrix for her part is simply grateful that Hermione doesn’t shut her completely down, but gives her an –indeed- very slim, but nevertheless chance to prove her, she has changed.  When Hermione sees that either of them is getting uncomfortable with the direction a conversation is heading, she steers it with her jokes to a lighter matter, this way maybe unintentionally, but she certainly avoids putting pressure on Bellatrix.  For which the older woman is extremely grateful, she still has no idea who she is, or how she could find her own balance to face this world.  She still feels too vulnerable at times. 

Hermione clears her throat, and continues in a more serious tone:

“However, now seriously: if you have concerns, how to approach people ...eh... shall we put... civilly, well, just take it easy, sometimes it’s enough to let people somehow know that you are paying attention and you are willing to listen to them.  And if you are really desperate, you always could observe everybody else around you, how they interact nonverbally.”   
She pauses slightly, then continues with a small frown: “Well, maybe your sister wouldn’t be the best of examples since she is always so in control over her expressions, or any kind of her body’s reactions...” At her next thought Hemione smiles slightly, mirth clearly visible in her eyes:  
“But truth be told your awkwardness is rather refreshing, even amusing at times.” Hearing this sentence _actually_ leave her mouth, makes Hermione blush furiously and nervously carry on, without taking any breath:  “I mean of course the Death Eaters wouldn’t exchange pleasantries, and...”

Bellatrix interrupts her slightly impatiently and with no small amount of despair:              
‘ _Yes, I did break combs.’_       
“I... beg your pardon?”          
_‘Previously, you asked me if I have ever broken a comb in my impossible hair, and yes, after Azkaban I did, several times until I gave up combing my hair all together.’_  
“That is certainly a... hmm... interesting piece of information, but your change of subject was rather random, don’t you think?”

_And she thinks her social skills_ might _be rusty...  Might, my ass!  She has no idea how to steer a conversation subtly..._   At this thought she playfully rolls her eyes.

Hermione once again has her teasing smile on, and nudges the already blushing older woman, trying to coax an explanation out of her.  
 _‘Uhm, I didn’t want you to go on about me being rubbish at socializing, or analyze me, and that just popped up in my mind...’_ At this point the infamous Black-upbringing kicks in.  Bellatrix squares her shoulders and tries to fight her blush. _  
‘You know what, why don’t we just go in the kitchen and meet the others?’_

At this Hermione once again bites her lip and begins to rub her now flat chest.  By now Bellatrix recognizes this as Hermione’s newest, developing nervous habit.  So she gently tugs at the younger woman’s hand, silently reminding Hermione not to worry about losing herself, and denial feeds only illusions.  
Hermione flashes a grateful but shy smile at the older woman.  For a moment she looks thoughtfully at Bellatrix then her smile morphs into a slow grin.

“You are right warrior, almighty defeater of combs, let’s do this!”  She winks at the brunette, who in turn sticks her tongue out at Hermione.  They open the door, step in the kitchen,   
... and are immediately shell-shocked about what they see...

Always prim and proper Narcissa Black’s fake-green eyes are practically swimming in her distaste and no small amount of despair as she is looking down at her now in a floral knee-length dress, brown combat boots and an oversized military jacket covered body.  Luna, _of course,_ is standing behind her and plaiting her favourite yellow flowers into Narcissa’s newly dyed light brown hair, however as soon as she sees Bellatrix and Hermione enter the kitchen, she nudges Narcissa’s shoulder:

“Sister, don’t you think we have an especially handsome brother?”  Her dreamy smile is evident even in her voice.

Narcissa lifts her gaze, and for a moment she absolutely forgets not only her annoyance about her appearance, but even her own upbringing too, as her face for once shows all her emotions, shock, surprise, wonder and even awe.  She opens her mouth to say something about Bellatrix’s changes, about the vanished scars, about the light in her eyes, but no sound comes out, Narcissa is just gaping...  Most likely for the first time in her life.

Bellatrix sees her sister’s reaction, and she just has to smile at her, offering Narcissa her most sincere, most open smile.  The former blonde is even more astonished, touched, a few moments later even her tears threaten to fall.  She has never seen her sister this... _free_ , not even during their time at Hogwarts.  When she sees Bellatrix turning to Hermione, _saying_ her something, subconsciously stepping closer to the Gryffindor and Hermione responding with a small, shy but sincere smile, well, always prim and proper Narcissa Black breaks the silence:

“Yes Luna, _our_ brother is especially handsome.”  Emphasising that Hermione is indeed her ‘brother’ too. “But most importantly, he is so much more than that.”  With this she smiles at Hermione, her look unguarded and _warm_.  Hermione blushes violently and tugs at Bellatrix’s hand without even noticing it, successfully snapping the older woman out of her stupor.

_‘I think she just accepted you into our family too, she wasn’t simply agreeing with Ms. Lovegood.’_   Bellatrix doesn’t even notice that in her astonishment she is actually ‘saying’ her thoughts out ‘loud’ to Hermione.  However when she sees Hermione’s obvious discomfort, Bellatrix right out grins at the young witch and begins to playfully lift her brows.  Hermione in turn rolls her eyes at Bellatrix’s antics and dryly remarks:

“It’s always good to see somebody acknowledging my efforts as Bellatrix Black’s _garde-de-dame_...”  She playfully sticks out her tongue at Bellatrix semi-outraged expression.  
 _‘Granger!  Take this back this instant!  I’m a born warrior, and I will have you know that a witch of my knowledge and skills doesn’t...’_

However the moment Bellatrix notices what _exactly_ she has said, her ‘voice’ trails off, and their playful banter turns into a heavy silence.  Hermione sees Bellatrix’s shoulders dropping, and the way she bites down hard on her lower lip indicates that Bellatrix is making her best efforts not to fall apart.  She moves to let go of Hermione’s hand, to close up until she gathers the pieces of her own soul that Bellatrix has already find since she lost her magic.  She moves to tune out the outside world, until she thinks she is ready to face the others, even without her own magic...

However Hermione sees through her and she doesn’t let the older woman go, she tightens her hold on Bellatrix’s hand.  She knows, they have to flee soon, that means all of them have to wear their most convincing masks, so she can’t allow Bellatrix to retreat into the deepest recess of her own mind, she has to help her with this if she wants Bellatrix to find her balance soon.  The only problem is that Hermione has no idea, how she would be able to help Bellatrix Black, she simply doesn’t know her enough to reassure her, to convince her that this type of coping mechanism won’t work in this situation.  Nevertheless she squares her shoulders, opens her mouth and whispers the first thing that comes across her mind:

“If... if this means anything to you, I...”  She blushes and silently berates herself about her own silliness, but then she forces out the rest of her sentence in one breath.  “...I still consider you a witch...”

At this both women stare wide eyed at each other.  Hermione not quite believing that she indeed said that out loud, and seeing the wonder, surprise, shock, but also ... _warmth and gratitude_ in Bellatrix’s eyes, just confuses her even more, and makes her even more uncomfortable.  Her blush deepens, she ducks her head but her now short hair can’t hide her anymore.  Now she is the one who means to move away, however a small whispering voice stops her:

_‘This is the reason why my sister accepted you.  She saw how much you did and are doing for me, even... even after everything that my former side and I did to you during the war.  She really is grateful, and I think she respects you as a person, and for what you are doing right now.  I believe she trusts you, and that moment previously was her way to say, she is going to protect you too as if you truly were part of our family...  And I say...  I don’t even know where to begin...  Thank you, Hermione, you have no idea, what...’_

Bellatrix trails off, and once again begins to tug on the hem of her t-shirt.  Hermione is still as a statue and is just staring at the older woman.

_This is so... surreal on so many levels...  I can’t even wrap my mind around it..._

Finally she snaps out of her musings, slowly runs her hand through her short hair, and hesitantly whispers:

“Don’t mention it...  We are a team now, aren’t we?”

Once again their eyes lock, but before either of them could say anything, Han’s always cheerful deep voice interrupts them.

“Ahh!  Baby bro!”  He enters the kitchen, Harry in tow, and merrily slaps Hermione on the shoulder.  He grins at her and begins to talk immediately:

“Finally you got ready!  Look at you, you are as dashing as always!  And this haircut, well, you should have done it years ago dear!”  He playfully winks at a slightly scowling Hermione.  “However now I can take pictures of you and Ms. Black too, the others are already taken care of, after that I am going to need half an hour or so to finish your passports, and then we can hit the road!”  Han suddenly stops his rant, puts his hand under his chin, and pretends to thoughtfully rub at it.  “What else?  What else?  Oh, I got it!”  His playful smile turns into a cat-like grin and continues in a sing-song voice:  “I suggest now would be the best time for you to finally admit that I am the most awesome jedi knight in this humble part of our small, known universe, albeit my Force might be slightly different than the original imagined Lucasian one, nevertheless...”

“Han, please...”

“You are right, let’s not go there.  However about Star Wars theory, and the possibilities behind it...”  Han successfully ignores Hermione’s slightly desperate look and goes on with his rant, without slowing down one bit, using only one breath per sentence.  “...Did you know that it took almost 20 years for Palplatine to build the first Death Star that eventually destroyed Alderaan?  Let’s compare this fact with the hypothetical situation of a nuclear power station blowing up on our planet!  The outcome of it...”

Hermione however has an idea what truly could be behind her brother’s rant.  So she casts a nonverbal Muffliato, and steps closer to Han.  She looks up at him, with her right hand begins to lightly stroke his cheek, and offers him a small, sad smile:

“Hannibal?  What is this really about?  Whenever you are talking about your beloved stories like this, it means you are desperately trying to hide behind them, that you need the comfort their world means.  Speak to me brother, don’t shut me out...  They can’t hear us.”

Han closes his eyes for a moment, lets his goofy-geeky façade fall, and when he re-opens them, they shine with determination and sadness.

“I just... I’m afraid to lose you Hermione.  I fully understand the gravity of your situation, that’s why I am helping you.  But being on the run in your country at the side of your friends, fighting for a cause and against an enemy that you have known from practically the first time you entered that world is totally different to what you are about to do...”  Han nervously ruffles his already shaggy hair then continues:

“The first time around you had years to prepare yourself, make plans... But now, you have to leave everything behind that you have known, there isn’t going to be a Forest of Dean, there isn’t going to be a muggle brother in Oxford, there isn’t hope that others, the Order, is fighting too to help you, hell you don’t even fully know the situation in wizarding Britain, and... and...”  He takes a deep breath, to calm his agitated mind down somewhat then he whispers:

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to feel guilty for going, you need to go, I understand that, even encourage that.  I am afraid of losing you, and I can’t help but constantly ask myself, is this going to be our final goodbye?  Am I going to finally lose the only family I have left, my little sister to a world I can’t be a part of, and top of it how could I carry on knowing that I couldn’t help you out when you needed me the most?!”

Before he can continue, Hermione interrupts him:

“Han, I want you to listen to me carefully, and listen well.” She pauses, until she is certain she has his undivided attention then she carries on in a steady, determined voice:  
“In these past seven years I haven’t forgotten where I came from, I am proud of my background, of my family, they are all part of me, of who I am.  _You_ are a part of me.  I had to cut my ties to our parents because they were targeted, but you are never going to lose me.  You are brilliant, you have your friends and your ‘muggle magic’, you could even fool the muggle authorities, not to mention the magical ones if you wanted!”

Hermione pauses, but her teary eyes are never leaving Han’s, she flashes a nervous smile at her brother:  
“And you thought me well, I know how to contact you safely, and I will do it.  You are my brother, we _will_ stick together, no matter what happens!”  She playfully slaps him on his shoulder: “And please don’t belittle yourself!  Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to leave the country at the first place, you helped us all out a lot.  Thank you for that Han.  And... and I promise, I am going to do my best to take care of myself.  But you do the same!  You hear me, you giant goofball?”

She smiles lovingly at Han, and sees as understanding, acceptance take over Han’s features.  She sees Han’s lips turning into a slow, teasing smile:

“I hear you, you nerd.”  
“Geek.”  
“Know-it-all.”  
“Hey, that’s a...”  
“...family trait, I know.”

Han sighs heavily then engulfs Hermione in a bone crushing hug, lifting her off of the ground.  
“I promise I’ll be safe.  I love you baby sis.”  
“I love you too.”

Han slowly puts Hermione down, they stare at each other for a while then they simultaneously step away, and the young witch ends her spell.  They both turn to face the other occupants of the room.  Both Narcissa and Luna have a knowing look in their eyes, Harry is staring at the ground, and Bellatrix looks extremely out of place, she is shifting her weight from one leg to the other, her gaze between Hermione and her sister, on her face once again that concentrating, awkward expression...  Well until Han interrupts everybody’s musings:

“Ms. Black, please follow me, I need to take a picture of you.”  Bellatrix once again casts a questioning look at Hermione then slowly steps out of the kitchen, trailing after Han.

“Hermione?  From what I have gathered, your brother is indeed slightly hmm... unique at times, but he seems to be not only very inventive but also sly.  Not to mention the fact that he is _your_ brother, I am confident that he is going to be fine.”

Needless to say how surprised Hermione is to hear this reassurance leave Narcissa’s mouth.  She looks up and watches the effort the former blonde is putting in keeping her expression open, so the young witch can recognize the sincerity behind her words.  After a few moments Hermione offers a tired smile and says:

“Thank you for saying that Narcissa.”

“Our sister is right Hermione.  I think Han’s colour would be a lovely purple if he had magical abilities...”  The extremely serious tone and slightly contemplative pose Luna is using while she says this, plus her absolute oddness and her newly found need to emphasise she got sisters and brothers, well finally get the wanted effect, and Hermione flashes a big toothy smile at her quirky former blonde friend.

“Oh Luna, what would I do without you?”

“I know!  You wouldn’t be aware of the nargl...”

At this time Harry feels, he needs to contribute to lifting everyone’s spirit.  So he shifts closer to his friends, hugs Luna’s shoulders and stage-whispers to her:

“That my friend, was a rhetorical question, we can’t possibly know what we would do without you, so we are just happy to have you here.”  He smiles sincerely at Luna, giving Hermione the perfect time to observe him more.

_He has changed so much... I have to talk to him some time, when there is just the two of us..._ With this Hermione turns her calculating gaze to Harry’s outfit, and instantly snorts in amusement.  He is wearing black leather shoes, black slacks, an expensive looking purple shirt, black vest, his hair is bleached out, so now it’s light brown, and extremely neatly combed back, he wears brown contacts, and his scar ‘magically’ vanished.  All in all good old Harry Potter looks awfully lot like a brown haired Draco Malfoy in their sixth year.

“Harry, you are _so_ handsome!”  Hermione tries her best to keep up a straight face, but she almost immediately dissolves in a fit of laughter.  Which in turn makes Luna and –surprisingly – even Narcissa smile.

Harry on the other hand just casually steps up Hermione and regards her for a long moment, then remarks in a dry tone with an expressionless face:

“Hmm, I think I am going to keep you around my friend!  Next to that hair of yours I am going to look well combed even on my worst days!”

With this he bursts out laughing, Narcissa and Luna following close behind, which only deepens Hermione’s scowl.  She is about to respond when Han’s voice interrupts her:

“Sis, you are next, come along!”

She turns on her heels and mutters a ‘my hair isn’t that bad’, which in turn just makes the other three erupt in even bigger laughter, and makes the entering Bellatrix Black flash a small but amused smile at Hermione.

The young witch follows Han to one of the downstairs bedrooms, whose walls are painted white.  Han motions to a stool at the far end of the room, where the wall is avoid of any kind of pictures.  Hermione sits down, watches as her brother steps closer to her with a camera in his hands that is connected to his laptop.  Han takes a picture, walks back to observe it on the monitor, he nods contently, places the camera on the table, and waits till Hermione stands next to him.

“Just between you and I sister...” With a wide smile he playfully ruffles Hermione’s short hair, which in turn of course makes her trying to slap his hand away.  “... your hair _is_ that bad!”  At Hermione’s deepening scowl he just laughs more, and gasps out between _actual_ giggles:  
“But.. I... just... love... it... this way.  It’s part... of the... Hermione Granger... appearance!”

Hermione smiles at him, slaps him on the shoulder just for good measure, naturally, then walks back in the kitchen muttering a ‘dork’ on the way out.

At the threshold she pauses to take a long look at her slightly impossible company.  
Luna is now whistling as opposed to her by now usual humming, drawing odd symbols, runes perhaps, with salt on the kitchen table, her head leaning on Narcissa’s shoulder.

_Of course, toning down Luna’s uniqueness with simply putting her in boring everyday cloths without any jewellery was as successful as an attempt to throw black paint on a unicorn to disguise it as a thestral._.. Hermione rolls her eyes good-naturedly. _Yes, Luna’s natural oddity is going to be hard to hide._  She smiles at the dreamy witch.  _But I wouldn’t have it any other way, it’s wonderful to have her as a friend._  She eyes Luna a bit calculatingly: _At least now, in these cloths that typical ‘Luna-ness’ isn’t screaming in our faces, this will do, I believe..._

She has still her small smile on as she turns her gaze to Narcissa. The now light brown haired witch stares curiously at Luna, as if she were beyond surprised that somebody would want to lean their head on her shoulder.

_I guess this is as far from proper pure-blood upbringing as it gets.  Take Narcissa’s Slytherin nature and Luna’s familial background into count, and well it should be interesting to observe, how Narcissa is going to react..._

Hermione watches the two of them with rapt attention, sees as for a second something akin to recognition flashes in Narcissa’s eyes, almost as if she were contemplating something.  Whatever the older witch is thinking about, it makes her features soften, her expression becomes more open and she whispers something to Luna.  The young Ravenclaw lifts her head and looks up surprised at Narcissa, after a few seconds intently staring, she flashes her brightest smile and excitedly begins to explain what she is ‘drawing’.  Narcissa pays attention, asking a few questions once in a while, nodding whenever she understands something.

Hermione is simply gaping at the two of them:  
 _Is she... is she really trying to be an older sister to Luna?  
_ Narcissa points out something on the table, throws a bit salt at the flat surface in front of herself and draws a different set of runes, explaining something in a low voice to Luna.  The young girl’s face lightens up, and by the looks of it she even forgets to breath...  
 _She really is being a sister...  Just when I thought my day couldn’t be more surreal..._

With this Hermione disbelievingly looks away, seeking out Harry.  The young man is staring out of the window, his pose is stiff, his left hand is curled into a fist, and his right is lightly touching the glass.  It really isn’t hard to guess what he is thinking about...  Hermione sighs.  
 _Ginny... I really need to talk to him in privet. He won’t open up about something like this when anybody else is around..._

She steps silently in the kitchen, her gaze quickly finding Bellatrix...  
... and Hermione almost bursts out laughing...  
The older woman opens the fridge for the fourth time in row, with a fascinated look on her face, moves the door enough to let the light fall on the floor at her feet, then slowly closes it, every time when she sees that the light went out but the door isn’t closed yet, her eyes light up with child-like glee.

Hermione approaches her slowly, barely containing her giggles.  She asks smiling:  
“Are you hungry?”  
Hearing her voice makes Bellatrix spin around, grab Hermione’s hand, not caring about the involuntary flinch her touch causes in the young witch, and begins to ‘talk’ excitedly:  
 _‘No, no!  I was just looking for that juice that muggles drink instead of pumpkin, I believe it was made out of some sort of fruit.  Don’t you think that’s strange?  Why didn’t they come up with the idea of using pumpkin?  Why fruits, why make a juice out of them?  Why not simply eat them?’_   By this point Bellatrix is so excited that she is swaying on the balls of her feet, the worn, holed pair of trainers Hermione lent her are squeaking on the floor.  The older woman’s enthusiasm makes Hermione smile, this time without any trace of shyness and out of her heart.  She carefully listens as Bellatrix rambles on.  Yes, Bellatrix Black apparently is capable of rambling...

_‘I remembered that you took it out of this...’_ she carelessly motions back at the fridge over her shoulder _‘... so I opened it, the light went on, and when I close it the light goes out.  And... and this made me think!  I know the_ exact _name of one of the things the muggles invented instead of using magic.  Electricity!’_

At this Hermione simply has to let out a small chuckle, but she nods, to reassure Bellatrix, she said everything right.  She sees, but doesn’t hear the older woman take a deep breath...,   
... and this is when Bellatrix gets so excited that she begins to move her lips, as if she were still able to actually talk.  This of course makes Hermione’s amusement vanish, she knows how carefully she has to tread now if she wants to avoid hurting Bellatrix somehow.  So she tightens her hand around Bellatrix’s and looks in the older woman’s eyes, clearly showing her, she has her undivided attention.  The dark brunette carries on, she doesn’t even realize that she is moving her lips:

_‘And then,... and then I realized that this truly is magic, it’s just called otherwise.  Because, because... I’d like to believe that everything that could make your life easier or could save lives, is in a way magical.  Not in the wand moving sense, but in the invention-of-human-mind-therefore-magical; comes-from-creativity-or-originates-from-your-heart sense magical.  Do you know what I mean?’_

Hermione just nods thoroughly dumbstruck.  She wouldn’t interrupt the older woman’s train of thought.  Even if she believes, what Bellatrix has just said, is sweet however a bit too naïve.  She wouldn’t interrupt her, because let’s get real, when was the time Bellatrix Black, or Lestrange, expressed any kind of sweetness or naivety?  _Probably before she got her_ milk _teeth_ , Hermione supposes.  However Bellatrix’s excitedly rambling, whispering voice pulls the young witch out of her musings:

_‘And then, and then I remembered your words, and realized that now I am allowed to ask you, how everything functions, works, I wouldn’t be frowned upon, or worse, by expressing interest in muggle things...’_   At this point Hermione is too stunned to say anything.  _‘You truly, really wouldn’t mind explaining me things, or suggesting me books?’_  Bellatrix now has a shy and slightly disbelieving expression.

Hermione gathers her bearings enough to whisper a small:  
“I promise you, I wouldn’t mind.” She clears her throat, and thoughtfully, a bit awkwardly continues:  
“In fact I believe it would be interesting for me too to get to know your perspective on a few things, you appear to have a unique way of thought...”

Bellatrix blushes furiously then after a few silent seconds her eyes widen with realization, she begins to once again tug at the hem of her t-shirt.

_‘I-I didn’t mean to overwhelm you... I noticed, that I am a bit overzealous sometimes, when I want to share my thoughts, it’s still a bit new for me that you can ‘hear’ me, and I don’t have to write.’_

Hermione smiles at just how awkward the woman can get in a moment, she shakes her head a bit, clearly amused.

“Don’t worry about it, you are talking to Gryffindor’s resident know-it-all, I don’t believe that you can get remotely as overzealous as me answering a theoretical question in transfiguration...”

With that she turns to the fridge, tugs slightly at Bellatrix’s hand, waits until she steps next to her, opens the door and takes out a bottle of orange juice.

“I believe you were searching for this one.”

Bellatrix stares at the bottle then nods a few times eagerly.  She looks up at Hermione questioningly then back at the bottle.  The young witch gives it to her with a slight smile on her face.  Bellatrix reads the cover once again, slowly opens the bottle and drinks out of it.  She sighs soundlessly, but the contentment on her face indicates that she really likes it.

Hermione just giggles at the older witch, she doubts that Bellatrix realized she is still holding her hand and that she can ‘hear’ her whispering voice murmur over and over again:

_‘This is good, really good...’_

“Bellatrix Black!”  Hearing the stern, scolding, absolutely motherly voice of Narcissa makes Bellatrix duck her head instinctively.    
“As if you didn’t have a proper upbringing!  What would mother say seeing you drink out of bottle, forgoing the usage of as an ancient institution of human culture as a mere glass!”

Bellatrix looks up wide eyed at Hermione then after a few seconds they both burst out laughing.  As soon as Bellatrix manages between fits of laughter, she sticks her tongue out at her sister, and drinks again, this time purposely slower to rile Narcissa more up.   
Hermione is stuck between a cross of amusement and shock at the Black sister’s antics, because let’s face it, they are supposed to be the elite of wizarding high society... She shakes her head and turns to the former blonde:  
“It’s alright Narcissa.” This is when she notices the mirth in the older woman’s eyes, and this once again makes her smile.  
 _Ah, so she does have sense of humour, one that’s apparently a wicked, sneaky-scary kind._

Before Hermione could say anything else, Han strides in the kitchen.  
“I’m finished, we can go.”

For long seconds nobody moves, the four witches and lone wizard slowly look at each other, as if all of them fully understood the gravity of this moment.

Harry is the first one to snap out of his musings, with determined strides he walks up to Han, and looks back at Hermione.  In his fake-brown eyes Hermione can read everything that he isn’t able to say: trust, a promise to keep each other safe, gratefulness, all their shared experiences in the adventurous past, love for a friend, for a sister...  Hermione steps up to him, and embraces Harry tightly saying without words, that she understands and reciprocates everything he feels. 

Then they both turn to Luna, smile at their quirky friend, and they both offer her a hand.  Luna’s eyes brighten, but she doesn’t let a smile appear on her face.  She simply leaps out of her chair and runs up to the Gryffindors, the bundle of joy and energy that she usually always is, nearly throwing both Hermione and Harry off of their feet as she engulfs them both in a bone crashing hug.  Soon the three young adults turn into a group hugging, chuckling mass of limbs.

Narcissa abandons the kitchen table, her pose, her movements are as graceful and dignified as ever as she walks to Bellatrix.  For a moment they stare in each other’s eyes then Narcissa leans in and kisses her sister on her cheeks.  Bellatrix, of course, blushes, shuffles her weight from one foot to another then she looks up at Narcissa, her face lights up, as if something just now had occurred to her.  Bellatrix mouths the word _‘Draco’_ to her sister, and instantly she is extremely pleased to see how happy and excited Narcissa is about to finally meet her son after all this time.  And of course, the gentle smile Narcissa sends her, and the slightly surprised gratefulness in her eyes all are tell-tale signs that Narcissa truly understood her.  She caught even with that simple word what Bellatrix really meant to say is that she looks forward to meet her nephew, for the first time in his life without any hidden agenda, just for as simple reason as getting to know the young man.

The next moment however Bellatrix is less pleased, rather horrified just for a split second, since Narcissa embraced her tightly.  Bellatrix once again blushes furiously, and after a few moment of hesitation begins to awkwardly pat her sister on the shoulder.  She feels Narcissa let out a soft chuckle, but she doesn’t let her go.  So Bellatrix relaxes, and with sheer concentration on her face she gently hugs Narcissa back for a brief moment.

Han awkwardly clears his throat... Because who in their right mind would have thought that a simple, everyday sentence could earn a reaction as emotional as the ones unfolding before his eyes...  When he sees the others turning their attention to him, he quickly begins to hand out the passports.

“It’s extremely important that you don’t lose these papers, anywhere in the muggle world you could be asked for them, for identifying yourself, not to mention, with something like this you could also deceive wizarding authorities.  So essentially they are your free tickets between the two worlds, and between countries obviously.”

Han takes a deep breath then continues:  
“And I can’t even stress how important it is, that you become the persons in your passport.  I mean, whenever you know that you are going to be controlled, or the situation warrants it, you should act as your alias would, as the personality would we decided you to have this morning.”

He pauses, thinking through everything then:  
“Yes, I believe, that’s it.  Oh, wait, one more thing: you all have muggle money on you, don’t you?”  When he sees the others nodding, he smiles gleefully.  “Excellent, now on with the actual fun!  Here are your passports...” He turns to Harry, giving him his:  
“...Max Rosenfeld, you are 25, your father works for the British Ministry of Foreign Affairs, you are studying politics at university, and you got to know your best friend in a boarding school, since then you are practically inseparable.”

The witches and Harry, especially him, are staring at Hannibal in all different state of shock, disbelief or curiosity.  They never thought, they are not only going to get new personalities but a new personal history too, not just a mere passport.  Han on the other hand is greatly entertained by their reactions, however he doesn’t let his emotions show on his face.  He continues in a serious tone, turning to Narcissa:

“Ms. Black, you are Anaïs Lavalle, 32 years old, since you actually can pull that off.  Seriously, what’s this with you magical folk?  You are 43, yet since you have magical blood, you are aging differently, pff...  Ehm...Anyway... back to the topic at hand, Ms. Lovegood and sis, pay attention too!  Anaïs, you were raised in France, till you were 6, then your family moved to Britain.  Your father is a French lawyer, your mum is British, you have a younger brother and an even younger sister.  You have a degree in art history and literature, you are occasionally writing articles, and you paint.”

Han pauses, enjoying the even more disbelieving looks he is getting.  An idea crosses his mind, so he asks hurriedly:  
“Ms. Black?  Am I correct to assume that you had to learn French?”  
“Yes.”  Narcissa suspiciously narrows her eyes at Han, as if dreading another ‘perfect’ muggle detail to support her new personality.  
“Excellent!  This goes well with the story!”  With that he offers Narcissa her papers.

Han gleefully claps his hands, and turns to Hermione:  
“You, Luc Lavalle are 25, the best friend of Max, you are studying philosophy and history.  You were born in the UK, and raised here, so you speak hardly French, since I know, how rubbish your French truly is...”  
“Hey!”  Hermione sticks her tongue at Han out, but she too is smiling, she snatches her new passport out of Han’s hands.

“Nah, nah, nah!  That’s hardly polite behaviour, you have a younger sister to think about now!  You are supposed to be an example, so behave!”  Han comments playfully, and of course sticks his tongue out at a disbelieving Hermione...

Luna by now is just beaming with happiness, and bouncing up and down with excitement.  Han turns to her:  
“You young lady are Isadora Lavalle, 22 and you are studying medicine.  You don’t speak French, I assume?”

When she shakes her head, he gives her the papers, then he continues, looking at a slightly uncomfortable appearing Bellatrix:  
“You are Katherine Mitchell, 36, a music teacher who met her boyfriend, Luc at a jazz festival.”  If anything, this declaration increases Bellatrix’s unease to a state of horrified disbelief...  She looks at Hermione uncertainly, then back at Han, taking her passport very gingerly.

Harry can’t take this anymore, he bursts out laughing:  
“Dear Merlin, Bellatrix as a music teacher!  That’s just too bloody hilarious!”  
However his mirth quickly turns into embarrassed explaining, as Narcissa’s ice cold voice reaches him:  
“Mr. Potter, are you under the impression that my sister couldn’t teach music?”  
“No, no.  I didn’t mean to offend Bellatrix, just I find the choice of subject funny.”  He looks at Narcissa, and when he sees that she _clearly_ doesn’t share his definition of fun, he lamely adds:  
“It’s just I could imagine her teaching hand to hand combat or military strategic sooner than music, that’s all.”

Before they can argue further, Bellatrix steps up to Narcissa, slowly pulls at the arm of her military jacket and shakes her head.  Narcissa nods, and smiles slightly at her sister.

Hermione clears her throat to gain everybody’s attention:  
“I believe we have a train to catch this evening, we should get going.”    
They begin to walk to the entrance door, Han and Hermione are the last ones.  The young witch turns to her brother:  
“Han, I’m leaving Crooks here, you should take care of him, he is going to behave, I talked to him, I promise.”  
Han rolls his eyes, but agrees.  Hermione beams up at him, and hugs him tightly.  After setting up the alarm, locking the house and slightly altering the magical wards they meet the others at Han’s car.

Hermione eyes Han’s _very_ muggle and very small car suspiciously, occasionally searching his brother’s face, as if she were waiting for one of Han’s rather unpleasant ideas to be voiced.  After today, she really doubts that this ride is going to be comfortable for her...

“I assume your sister hasn’t enchanted your car Mr. Granger?”  Narcissa’s ever polite sentence breaks the awkward silence, her gaze shifting between the small car and the six of them, indicating, what she has really meant.  
“Ah, I see your problem!  And here I was thinking you haven’t used a car yet, that’s why you were hesitating to get in...”  Han chances a look at Luna and Narcissa, and confirms his suspicions, but he chooses not to say anything.  Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices how awkwardly Hermione and Bellatrix are standing next to each other, how tense her sister is.  However, once again Han doesn’t voice anything, he just silently observes, quickly deciding what to do.

He opens the passenger door:  
“Ms Black?”  He pointedly looks at Narcissa, and lets his sentence hung in the air.  The older woman lifts her brow, but gets in the car without a word, as gracefully as ever, of course.  Han begins to walk around the car, carelessly throwing over his shoulder:  
“All of you, hop in.  I hope it isn’t going to be a problem, but Ms. Black you are going to sit on Hermione’s lap, since you are the shortest, plus she _is_ your boyfriend.”

Han pays rapt attention to the reactions his words caused, all the while trying to be as subtle as possible.  Hermione immediately pales, and just for a moment panic flickers in her eyes, before she is able to force her indifferent mask on.  Harry takes an involuntary step to Hermione, trying to shield her from Bellatrix.  Luna and Narcissa look at each other, in their eyes a shared sadness and understanding.  Bellatrix herself has the slightest blush on her cheeks, eyes strictly directed at the points of her shoes, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to another.

_Hmm... So whatever she has done, she is at least ashamed of it._   Han looks back at Hermione, sees as she lifts her chin.  Her typical childhood gesture morphed into one of a determined young woman’s, who – as Han sadly realizes- has already seen too much.  But – and this is what reassures Han somehow- she isn’t broken, she rather has a unique air around her, one of a fighter’s, somehow her sheer presence demands respect...  He sees as she squares her shoulders, her face never betraying her thoughts, she offers her hand palm up to Bellatrix and simply asks in a dry humourless voice:

“Sweetheart?”  Lifting her eyebrow in a similar fashion to Narcissa’s.  Bellatrix hesitantly accepts it, and uncertainly looks in Hermione’s eyes.  Hermione’s gesture seems to take the edge of the tension off, however Han notices both Luna, Harry and Narcissa looking up at the witches time to time as they all get in, and Han begins to drive to Ashford.

The silence is almost deafening, until Luna breaks it in order to chat with Harry.  Their shared experiences in these past months, their easy and friendly banter, Luna’s cheerful, however slightly odd comments, obviously relaxing them both.  Soon it seems that they forgot about the world around them.  Narcissa looks back one more time at Hermione and Bellatrix, painfully aware of both their extremely tense postures.  She sighs deeply then decides to ask Han more about hippies, since she is supposed to act like one till they arrive safely in Paris...  Han of course, enthusiastically launches in a painfully detailed, very Granger-like explanation.

Bellatrix nervously shifts on Hermione’s thighs she isn’t sitting on her lap, rather on her knees, trying to give as wide breath to the younger woman as she can in her limited space.  She is positive, however how uncomfortable she feels, Hermione must feel hundred times worse.  She uneasily glances up at fake-green eyes, taking in the younger woman’s expression, her extremely rigid and unmoving position.  Hermione directs her gaze out of the window, as if there was nothing more interesting than common English houses running by.  Bellatrix sees the slight twich of her left eyebrow, obviously Hermione is trying with all her might not to slip into an... _episode_ , similar to the one this morning in the kitchen.  Bellatrix knows that the young woman was once again forced into a situation, she wasn’t ready for, and she knows, she has to do something.

She hesitantly reaches out, softly touches Hermione’s hand with one finger, ignoring how her fist flinches, how she is involuntary trying to shy away from any kind of contact with Bellatrix.  Unluckily for Hermione, the older woman can be just as stubborn, as her.

‘ _Hermione, you don’t have to do this.’_  
The young witch doesn’t say anything she just shuts her eyes for a moment.  The silence between them stretches, so they are listening to the other conversations in the car for a while.  
Bellatrix anxiously shifts once again on Hermione’s thigh, and begins to slightly swing her legs, touching the noses of her sneakers against the car door.  She has no idea what she should do...  
With a slight mortification she realizes, that even in this sitting position her legs are several inches shorter than Hermione’s.  She abruptly stops her swinging, and ‘voices’ her first thought, before she realizes her finger is still pressed against Hermione’s hand, therefore the young witch can hear her:

_‘Am I really that short?’_   This sentence, her wide eyed expression and slight frown have the desired effect, Hermione turns her head to stare at Bellatrix in disbelieving amusement.

“Seriously?”  she asks with a teasing smile.  Bellatrix looks at her mortified for a long moment, then a slow blush creeps up her cheeks, until she sheepishly asks:  
‘ _You heard that, didn’t you?’_  
Hermione playfully rolls her eyes, and they both settle in the uneasy silence between them.  
“This situation is awkward.”  Hermione finally states the obvious.  
 _‘Beyond awkward actually...  Isn’t this the point when normal people begin to exchange small pleasantries, to bust up their confidence till they can approach a more serious topic?’_     
Hermione almost lets her first thought about the dark brunette making the situation even worse slip, but when she looks into Bellatrix eyes, seeing the uncertainty and curiosity, she realizes, Bellatrix is _actually_ asking this.

For a desperate moment, mouth hanging open Hermione thinks _What have I gotten myself into?_ , but then a thoughtful expression crosses over her features, and she slowly, patiently answers:

“Yes, that’s correct, or you could skip them, if you are uncomfortable, and ask right away if you have a particular ‘serious topic’ on your mind.”  Her whispering tone almost encouraging, however her slightly darkening expression tells Bellatrix that there are several off-limits topics, such as _that_ night.  The dark brunette knows that they should talk about the evening at Malfoy Manor, however she isn’t going to force the younger witch.

Instead she chooses to talk about something entirely different:  
 _‘There is something that has peaked my curiosity...’_   She pauses, and Hermione of course eyes her suspiciously.  ‘ _What is it with you and the term... sweetheart?’_   The last word makes her wrinkle her nose in slight distaste, as if she wouldn’t believe that she ever ‘uttered’ that particular word.

Hermione chuckles at Bellatrix’s antics, and at the unexpected question, nevertheless she tries to explain in a hushed whisper:  
“Well, I could never understand why responsible adults feel the need to address each other as ‘baby’, this disturbs me, truth be told.  I mean, why do they have to imply the other’s vulnerability?  And as why I don’t use another name, well excuse my harshness, but you aren’t dear to me...”

Bellatrix’s crocked eyebrow and the deadpan look she sends her, makes Hermione take a deep breath and explain:  
“I didn’t mean to be rude Bellatrix, I simply wanted to express that I have known _this you_ for two days, clearly not enough time to have an accurate impression of one’s personality.  We are practically strangers, well apart from our history...”

Bellatrix studies the young witch’s features then looks out of the window, with a far away expression on her face.  
 _‘Yes, strangers...’_  
Hermione chooses to ignore the somewhat out-of-blue remark, instead she worries her bottom lip, till she hesitantly asks:  
“Bellatrix?”  The brunette snaps out of her musings, turns back to Hermione, waiting for her to continue.  “Do you... do you think that we could begin my first lesson until we reach Ashford?  It’s a two and a half hour ride after all, and we still haven’t even left Oxford...”  She trails off uncertainly.

Bellatrix regards her curiously, a bit calculatingly.  She slowly shifts her hand on Hermione’s, so she is covering it instead of pressing a sole finger against the younger witch’s skin.  Hermione stares back into Bellatrix’s fake-blue eyes, and she doesn’t even flinch when the older woman repositions her hand.

_‘I don’t see why not.’_   The young witch exhales slowly, a small excited smile stretches her features.  She looks out of the window once again, her brows slowly rising, as if she has just recalled something.  Bellatrix is looking at her intently and waiting for the question, that is surely about to be voiced.

“Bellatrix?  Do you think there is a way to detect wands magically?  I mean, we can charm our bags or pockets to be undetectable, and hid there any kind of magical objects, but we don’t put our wands in there, just in case a conflict arouse and it’s needed.  My problem here is, I might have left a loophole in our defence.  We have already established that because of their training the Blue Jackets can’t sense our magical signature, they could sense only ongoing magic, but as long as our magical objects are hidden behind protecting charms, and we don’t use magic in their presence, unless the situation arises, we should be safe, right?  But what about wands?  They have...”

By this point Bellatrix’s head is spinning a bit, since Hermione managed to force her thoughts out, taking breath only twice.

_‘You don’t have to worry about that.’_

“But, we are almost at the check-point!  What if...”

As Hermione motions out, Bellatrix shifts her gaze, and sees all the cars gradually slowing down as they near the end of the town, which only means that Hermione is right.  However, before the young witch can blurt out anything more, Bellatrix interrupts her:

_‘Let me explain.’_   Hermione closes her mouth mid-sentence, and stares intently at the older woman.  _‘Normally you would be right.  Any witch or wizard, a slightly more talented than mediocre should be able to sense the magic in any object with magical properties, unless it is explicitly enchanted to prevent this.  However wands are not_ any _magical objects.  There is only one way to feel a wand, when you are holding it in your hand.  Then you can tell, which core is in it, what type of witch or wizard the owner is, characteristics of their united magic and so on, depending on your own magical abilities.’_

When she sees Hermione’s brows furrowing, she continues:  
 _‘Look at it this way: you know that you can’t sense magical creatures per se, unless they are something very specific, say a dementor.  Any other type and you can’t sense them, unless they use their magic on you, or you are partly from magical creature origin.  The wand cores used, such as dragon heartstring, unicorn fur or phoenix feather keep most of the abilities of that specific magical creature.  Among them the aforementioned one about detection too.  Combine these facts with the unique and partly protective enchantments used by wandmakers, and the chosen wand wood that strengthens some magical aspects, always resulting in a very specific wand, now you should see that the only way to ‘detect’ or ‘sense’ a wand is by holding it.  Which sounds asinine, but whenever you aren’t in direct skin contact with a wand, you can’t feel it.  In worst case, you only feel the magic that is directed at you via that wand, however that’s not the wand’s itself, but the witch or wizard’s behind it.’_

Hermione is staring at the older woman, once again.    
She was once a formidable enemy, Voldemort’s right hand, first lieutenant, and as such it has always been clear that she must be extremely talented and very well oriented in almost all type of magic. However before this situation resulting in her losing her magical abilities, her madness and petulant child acts simply always overshadowed her vast knowledge.  As a result Hermione is still coming to terms to just how much she could learn from her.

Before the young witch could say anything, Han’s voice interrupts all ongoing conversations:

“We are nearing the check-point, we should get through in a few minutes if everything goes well.  So padawans and knights keep the plan in mind, because I so can’t pull a Ben-Kenobi to escape...”  When he notices the sudden deafening silence, he looks up at the others and meets incredulous stares and Hermione’s amused one.  “Uh, I mean, you know the importance of becoming your alias, so please act as we have planned.  Good luck, and may the force be with us!”

Choosing not to question the meaning behind his obvious muggle references, the four witches and Harry begin to prepare themselves.   
Narcissa closes her eyes, concentrates for a moment and then her whole demeanour changes, her shoulders shag a bit, her back relaxes, she puts her booted feet on the dashboard, in a decidedly un-ladylike manner, especially given the fact that she is wearing a summer dress.  She gazes out of the window, and somehow manages to have a dreamy look on her face.  Of course Hermione and Bellatrix are staring at her in absolute bewilderment, until Bellatrix begins to soundlessly giggle.

_‘How I wish mother dearest could see her now...’_

This makes Hermione too chuckle, somehow imagining the pure-blood extremist old woman seeing her daughters in this company, in these type of clothing, well it might be the adrenalin in her veins, but she finds the mental image simply hilarious.

Harry and Luna both begin to pay attention to their body language.  Harry somehow manages to radiate some kind of authority and just a hint of arrogance, his inspiration must have been either Narcissa or Draco Malfoy.  Luna on the other hand, well she looks almost _painfully_ _normal_.  Her dreamy expression is gone, so is her humming and smile, she is the epitome of a rather shy but very intelligent-looking young woman.

“Luc?  Katherine?”  Han pointedly asks.  They have already stopped, and they all can see the five police officers checking their side of the road, about six cars ahead of them.

“I guess this is our clue Bellatrix.  Are you ready?”

_‘I should be the one asking you that.  But yes, as ready as I ever will be.’_

“Good.”  Hermione ignores the rest of the older woman’s sentence, instead she concentrates on relaxing her body, taking regular breaths, and constantly reminding herself that her torture is over, and it’s not going to happen again.  _Or at least not by her hands_ , she remarks herself bitterly.  Her hands once again begin to rub at the bonds restraining her breasts, she is doing this unconsciously, but never the less, it does appear strange that she is running her hands across her now flat chest over and over again.

Bellatrix clears her throat...  
... And of course nothing happens, no sound comes out.  
Then she rolls her eyes at herself, and tries again, this time lifting her hands, and very slowly reaches out to Hermione, so she doesn’t startle her more.  The young witch’s breath quickens, and for a moment she looks fearfully at Bellatrix, but then she steels herself, and lets the older woman gently touch her chin.

Bellatrix thinks she can help Hermione, she hasn’t been sorted into Slytherin once upon a time without any reason.  Self preservation sometimes requires manipulation, and that comes hand in hand with being able to almost instinctively know, what is driving the other person.  What buttons to press to achieve the desired effect.   
Right now, Hermione has to beware her cool, calculating mind, and Bellatrix knows exactly, how to help her to do that:

_‘Hermione?’_   She gently holds the younger woman’s face between her palms, forcing her to look her in the eye.  
 _‘Tell me, why are we doing this?’_   She waits, and just as she thought, Hermione launches herself into finding an explanation, her infamous logic kicking in.  _Button number one has been pushed._   Bellatrix doesn’t need to hear the reasons all over again, she just wanted to remind Hermione to use her logic, before she tips over into panic.  Practically this is the only thing that could get through the young witch, no matter the situation, as their... especially particular shared past shows.  And now Bellatrix just has to wait, since with this question she actually managed to kill two birds with one stone...  _Ah, and here it is, the infamous Gryffindor nature!_  She thinks relieved, and smiles softly at the young woman, when she sees her sitting up straighter, squaring her shoulders, and once again radiating determination, obviously Hermione once again found her reason and motivation.

Bellatrix knows, she has done enough, but she wants to say something else too, or maybe even needs to:  
 _‘I’m not her.  Not anymore.  She won’t hurt you, never again.’_

Hermione stares into Bellatrix’s eyes, searching them, seeing past the fake colour, and apparently finding what she has been looking for, since she slowly nods.

The young witch looks out of the window, three more cars are in front of them.  She turns back to Bellatrix, and a small mischievous smile begins to play in the corner of her lips.

“So, Katherine...”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes, but replies equally mirthfully.

_‘So, Luc...’_   She can’t help herself, she just has to snigger a bit at Hermione’s new name.

The young witch of course decides to tease Bellatrix more.  She clears her throat and says in an overly-eager voice that would suit a 15 year old boy better than the 25 year old young man that she is supposed to be now:  
“Is this a way to sit on your very handsome boyfriend’s lap?”

She chuckles at Bellatrix’s open mouthed and shocked expression, and deliberately ignores the disbelieving stares she knows she is suddenly getting by the others.

Bellatrix quickly gathers her wit, and replies:  
 _‘Well, he hasn’t done anything yet to want me to press myself against him more...’_  
She is using a lighter than her natural tone and it appears to be even more unsubtle than Hermione’s has been.  All the while running her right hand through Hermione’s hair, and lifting her brows over-suggestively. 

Hermione chuckles once again at Bellatrix’s antics. She is really grateful that the older woman is open and willing enough to participate in playful banter.  Sometimes these silly exchanges calm Hermione more than the words themselves.  Because they ban her lingering doubts about Death Eater Lestrange.  They help her to concentrate on Bella Black.

She shifts her gaze extremely slowly, lacking any grace or subtlety, in an extremely over-eager, exaggareted manner from Bellatrix’ s legs up her body, lingering here and there till she reaches her eyes.  Bellatrix of course plays along, fakes modesty and mirthfully stares back into Hermione’s eyes.

“Ah?  Is that so?  He hasn’t done anything yet?”  She lifts her brow then continues:  
“Perhaps another time he will.”  She winks at Bellatrix and they both are chuckling.

“But now seriously, come closer, you really should sit on my lap, not on my knees, our awkward position could arise questions.”

_‘Are you...’_  
“Yes, now don’t fret.”  She pats her lap.  Bellatrix slowly moves up, for a moment they both are extremely tense, till Hermione sighs tiredly, and in an almost resigned manner embraces Bellatrix shoulders and pulls her against herself.  She concentrates on her breathing, till her body slowly begins to relax.  Bellatrix is leaning with her right shoulder against Hermione’s chest, and when she feels that the young witch is coping with the situation, she puts down her head on Hermione’s shoulder, her forehead touching the young woman’s neck, but she still can see the happenings outside of the car.  Hermione puts her left arm around Bellatrix’s small waist.

_‘Hermione?’_  
“Yes... Katherine?”  
 _‘What do you see?’_   She knows instantly what Bellatrix means.  
“5 officers are controlling our lane, car by car, the other side is seemingly undisturbed.  However around half dozen policemen are stationed there, see you those couples over there?  Who seemingly are just making a quick stop before driving by?  Well, they are too aware of their surroundings, not to mention to stop practically a few yards before reaching the town is highly unlikely.  So they are in disguise.”  
 _‘Very good.  Do you see something else in this side of the road?’_  
“Hmm, if I were to guess, I’d say, we should count on at least a dozen police officers within a mile after leaving the check-point.  But nothing else, sadly.”  
 _‘What about magical signatures?_ ’  
“I can’t sense any, I know there must be Blue Jackets among these five in front of us, but I can’t sense them.  
 _‘Three of them are wizards, Blue Jackets.’_  
“How do you know?”  
 _‘Our car is next, later... Luc.’_  
Bellatrix lifts her head and looks into Hermione’s eyes as she ‘says’ the name, she even winks, and when she sees Hermione playfully rolling her eyes, she leans back, and nestles back into Hermione’s crock of neck.

The young witch holds her by her waist just slightly tighter, and begins to slowly run her hand through Bellatrix’s extremely long, straightened out hair.

They sit in comfortable silence, until they hear a very business-like voice:  
“Good afternoon!  May I see your driving licence and the papers of your car, sir?”  
“Good afternoon!  Certainly, here you go.”  Han answers in his usual, chipper, carefree manner.  “May I ask you what this control is about?”  His smile is as sweet and polite as ever.

Bellatrix puts her right hand on Hermione’s shoulder, and the left on the younger witch’s hand on her waist, she moves slightly, nestling in more into Hermione’s embrace.

_‘Don’t answer me, it would be suspicious if you were to whisper.  Just look as careless as you can manage.’_

She pauses, notices that Hermione hasn’t even bat her lashes.  
 _‘The man talking with your brother is the muggle.  The other two slowly walking in our direction are Blue Jackets.  They are most likely going to check both sides of the car simultaneously, while the muggle is chatting with your brother.’_

“Ah, there is nothing to worry about Mr. ...”  The officer looks down at Han’s papers: “... Morrison.  This is just standard procedure...”

_‘Here they come.’_

Hermione looks down at Bellatrix.  The older woman has no idea what she is thinking about, but her smile is genuine, and everybody who doesn’t know Hermione would think, this is the smile of a lover.  Expect this is a mere sweet gesture of the young woman.  Nevertheless Bellatrix smiles back and looks into Hermione’s eyes, trying all she might to look like a love sick teenager.  Well, she does have a vague idea about that concept, so she thinks she can manage this gesture just fine.

Out of the corners of their eyes they can see the two soldiers slowly walking by, stopping to look at every person occupying the car.  Hermione feels magic swepping over her, for a moment fear rears its head in her heart, but she manages to hold her ground, staring at Bellatrix, slowly stroking her hair.

_‘They used magic, didn’t they?’_  
Hermione’s eyes drop to Bellatrix’s lips, almost getting closed, but not quite, signalling yes.  
 _‘It must have been a weak detection charm, look at them, they aren’t suspicious, this one, closer to us seems to be even bored, not to mention that they allowed the other Blue Jacket and muggle auror to check the next car.’_

Luckily Han is muggle, and as such he is blissfully unaware of the magic that was just used on them.  His speech doesn’t even falter, he is amicably chatting with the policeman right now about –of all possible topics- if Jimmy Floyd or Micheal Owen is the better goalscorer this season in the premier league.    
Which all in all seem to convince the taller one of the Blue Jackets that these people must be muggles.  He grunts out impatiently, and he is about to move to the next car, when his partner stops him.

“We haven’t been informed yet, where you are going, sir.”  He is pointedly looking at Han then moves his gaze, lingering on everybody else in the car.

“Oh, of course, how silly of me!  One of our friends is having a grill party at his cottage not far from Stadhampton.”

“I see.”  He once again looks at everybody then slowly says: “Thank you for your cooperation, please proceed and drive safely.”

Han is exchanging further pleasantries and goodbyes, however Hermione can’t hear him because of the frantic but relived drumming of her blood in her ears.  Slowly they begin to drive away, all of them still staying in the character.  Just as Hermione predicted, around a mile after the check-point they can see several police cars idly standing by next to the road.

Hermione tenses once again, and anxiously waits to see if they are going to be followed.  They slowly pass by the cars, but none of the policemen seems to pay attention to them.  They drive in tense silence for another mile, when Han loudly exhales:  
“I think we were successful.  Nevertheless I am going to keep a close eye on the rearview mirror, just in case.” 

The witches too check very subtle if they are being magically followed, and Harry suspiciously eyes every vehicle passing by, before they all allow themselves to relax.  Soon Luna and Narcissa begin a heated debate about experimental usage of healing abilities magical creature origin against recently discovered magical maladies.  Needless to say that Harry is staring at them incredulously.  He shifts uncomfortably on his seat, and tries to appear as forgoing as possible, which he spectacularly fails after a few seconds.  So when Han asks him about wizarding sports that his sister somehow never mentions, he enthusiastically launches himself into an overly-detailed explanation about anything quiddich related.

Bellatrix resumes her previous position, giving Hermione once again as much space as she can under their limited circumstances.  Hermione can’t surpass a relieved sigh, she folds her arms across her chest, and for a while she is just staring out of the window.  The older woman knows that Hermione needs to have a few moments to gather herself.  It’s quite obvious that the conflict between Hermione’s instincts, memories, and her recent experiences regarding Bellatrix are wearing the young woman down.  Not to mention her fear that she is still struggling to control.

However, in true Hermione Granger fashion, she won’t let her problems overpower her.  Admittedly, she still can’t find a logical solution for how to let her fears truly disappear, but she did find something helpful.  She discovered that the more she lets the older woman speak, the more she can _see for herself_ that she has changed.  So she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin slightly, and sends the other witch a calculating gaze.

Bellatrix lifts a brow, by now she is familiar with this expression, Hermione’s whole demeanour says: I am about to ask something and I would like to have a detailed answer...

“How did you know which one of them were wizards?  We couldn’t sense their magical signature, yet you knew, despite the fact that you can’t do any magic.  How?”

Somehow Bellatrix saw this particular question coming.  She slowly extends her hand and waits for Hermione to hesitantly take it.  The moment her skin touches the young woman’s, Bellatrix’s deep whispering voice fills Hermione’s mind.

_‘Their distinctive body language.  This is something that I can’t explain to you now, we have to observe people, then I could give you a few pointers, what exactly you have to look for, after that we could practice recognising witches and wizards without sensing their magical signature.  But this is a process, you can’t learn it overnight.’_

The older woman tries to keep her expression as open as possible, so Hermione can easily recognize, she is telling the truth, and she means her offer.

Naturally the young witch eyes her suspiciously for a moment, before slowly nodding once.  
“I understand.  Another time then.”

Now it’s Bellatrix’s turn to look away slightly nervously.  She worries her bottom lip, seemingly makes up her mind, and turns back to Hermione.

_‘May I ask you something?  I know this is going to be deeply personal, but nevertheless you are going to have to answer me truthfully and honestly.’_

Hermione immediately tenses, with a guarded expression on her face stares at Bellatrix, calculating every possible angels, hidden agendas the dark haired witch might have.  When her, in suspicion narrowed gaze meets Bellatrix’s uncertain one, her face becomes unreadable, and after a brief hesitation she coldly whispers:

“I don’t have to do anything for you, least of all share something personal.  I am being civil, polite to you, and acknowledge you as my ally, because I really don’t have another choice...”

Bellatrix however cuts in, her infamous impatience once again showing.  
 _‘I do know this, and believe me, nothing stands further from me than wanting to push your boundaries even more...’_   She closes her eyes briefly.  With frustration she won’t achieve anything.  She reminds herself once again that logic is the key to the young witch, so she slowly exhales, and tries once again:

_‘I wanted to ask you about your magic.  Since we agreed on me teaching you, I am going to need some information, so I can see where exactly we should head...’_

A part of Hermione feels her previous outburst justified, this is the woman who tortured and shuttered her into million pieces after all.  But somehow looking at the broken, lost warrior, a fragile-looking woman who lost her magic, everything she has ever believed in and essentially herself too in the process, well Hermione simply can’t help herself but blush slightly in shame.  She reminds herself once again, that the small brunette sitting on her almost-lap is so much more than she appears, and she is not at all the person everyone believes her to be, Bellatrix Lestrange doesn’t exist anymore.  This woman in front of Hermione is a stranger, who appears to be willing to help, who _wants_ to be her ally.

The young witch sincerely doubts that this is Bellatrix’s way to find redemption, rather the older woman is searching for herself, and learning to live with herself in the process...

Hermione merely nods, accepting Bellatrix words, and simply says:

“Ask.”    
After all, if the question is really too personal, she always could deny giving an answer.

Bellatrix visibly relaxes, and after a few moments of gathering her thoughts, with a concentrated expression she begins:

_‘As you know, the ability to sense magical signatures is rather rare, and the way how exactly the witch or wizard senses it differs from person to person.  Most witches and wizards never talk about, how they sense it, simply because they would essentially describe the nature of their magic, with what type of magic they feel the most comfortable with.  As a result somebody capable enough, who wants to harm you and they were to learn how you sense magical signature, they would have an advantage against you, they could guess your weaknesses.  That’s why usually no ‘senser’ talks about, how they do it.’_   After a slight pause, she continues:  _‘Your friend, Luna is a rather odd exception, constantly declaring what colour one’s magic is...’_  

They simultaneously turn to look at the lively former-blonde, who is intently staring at the... _air?._.. around Narcissa, while she is explaining some magical creature’s abilities...

“I know what you mean.” Hermione mumbles in a bit of amazement, her eyes still glued to her friend.  She turns back to Bellatrix:

“And I believe I know what you want to ask.  Do you really think it would be helpful if I told you?”  She uncertainly eyes the older woman.

_‘To put it simply: yes.’_   When she sees the lingering doubt in Hermione’s eyes, she slowly tightens her hold on the younger woman’s hand, her whispering voice taking an even softer tone in Hermione’s head:

_‘Look at it this way: every witch or wizard, depending on their magical abilities, has a magical discipline they prefer, like or are gifted at.  Of course there are hopeless cases too, but that’s beside the point now.  However, it’s important that you know, the vast majority of magical population uses their magic as a tool.  As a result, however how invested they are in their chosen magical field, profession, they are never going to be as adept in that particular area as a ‘senser’.  Simply because a ‘senser’ knows not only themselves but the nature of their own magic too.  They perceive their magic as a living part of them, not as a tool.  They are able to consciously lead their life based on what type of magic their own magic is most compatible with, not just merely on NEWTs results, or other outer reassurances.  A ‘senser’ has an enormous advantage, if they are willing to listen to their magic, so to speak.’_

Bellatrix sees as Hermione hungrily absorbs every information, she is already opening her mouth to ask something, her brows furrowed in concentration, but before she can say anything, the older woman continues:

_‘With willing to listen I mean that you should use your ability on yourself, search your own magic, and get to know yourself even better.  This way you are going to know on a_ conscious level _which type of magic comes to you at the easiest, and you could use this knowledge for example in combat, be more effective in attacking, and so on.’_

Hermione is just staring at the older woman lost in thought.  After a few silent minutes Bellatrix adds:

_‘Besides, it’s not like I could tell anyone the information that you might share.  Plus you are never going to duel me either, since I lost my own magic for good...’_

She uncomfortably shifts, she finds it extremely difficult to speak about this, but somehow she feels that the young witch needs to hear this twisted reassurance.

This time it’s Hermione who tightens her hold on Bellatrix’s hand, takes a deep breath and in a barely audible voice she whispers:

“I see pictures.”  
Her only answer is a questioningly lifted dark brown eyebrow on pale skin.  
“I mean my magic associates magical signatures with pictures...”  She trails off, unwilling to say something more.

_‘That must be...’_ Bellatrix is searching for a word to express ‘extremely bothersome’ on a diplomatic way.  She clears her throat merely out of habit than anything else, and begins once again: _‘That sounds fascinating...’_

“You are only saying this because I am the first person ever who actually told you how they sense magical signatures...”  Hermione mock-glares at Bellatrix, who in turn simply flashes a cheeky smile.

_‘You are sometimes too smart for your own good Granger.’_  
“Whatever, Black.”  The young Gryffindor rolls her eyes.

Bellatrix becomes once again serious:  
 _‘Thank you for sharing this with me Hermione.  However the actual question were, how you perceive your own magic.  In this instance this is the most important information...’_

They stare at each other, without uttering a word, Bellatrix trying to silently convey how essential Hermione’s answer would be, the young witch is searching the older woman’s eyes.

Without breaking their eye contact Hermione whispers:  
“Water.  I see...hmm associate it with water.” 

She doesn’t want to elaborate, exactly what kind of water she means, but on the other hand, Bellatrix’s stunned expression indicates that she wouldn’t even need to explain more.

_‘How curious...  How utterly curious...Hmm, but she did say that her patronus was an otter, that at least should have...’_   Bellatrix seemingly absentmindedly ‘murmurs’ while staring out of the window at the running landscape.

Hermione ducks her head, so she can once again look into Bellatrix’s fake-blue eyes.  The dark brunette snaps out of her musings, and without even turning back to the young woman, she begins to explain:

_‘Just... I have duelled you before, and I would have never imagined that you would be an elemental mage.  You were resourceful, and you obviously knew a great variety of spells, but you never used elemental ones, and I always had the impression that out of your little trio, Mr. Potter was the more bold dueller too, the person who takes action, while your stronghold laid rather in tactical or theoretical subjects...’_   She trails off and this time faces the young woman who uncomfortably shifts in her seat.

“Well, your observations are correct.”

_‘Do you have any idea what this means?  That you associate your own magic with an element?’_

This perspective of magic is entirely new to Hermione.  She doubts that she has ever read about what one’s magic could imply, beyond recognising the distinct signature, of course. Not to mention that she has never heard about practices that actually encourage... _communication?_ between witch and her magic.  She is slightly insecure, it rarely ever happens after all that someone can point out an _entirely_ new discipline of magical theory for her.  So she lamely utters:

“Uh, I... I don’t suppose you mean I should learn how to swim better...?”

This moment Bella Black is overcome with her infamous impatience, and her less than... stellar temper makes its appearance too...  Eyes slightly glinting with shadows of their old madness, she slaps Hermione’s shoulder.  Hard.

The young witch is too stunned to react, apart from mumbling:  
“Honestly!  That was uncalled for.”   
They don’t even notice the heavy silence in the car, and that the others are staring at them.  Bellatrix’s pale cheeks are flushed red with anger, her grip painfully tightens around Hermione’s hand, with her free hand she grabs the young woman’s t-shirt, fists it, pulls her closer, and without even realising it she moves her mouth, as if her words actually could cut the air between them, instead of only echoing in Hermione’s mind.

_‘You are supposed to be the brightest witch of your age!  So move that bloody mind of yours and think!  This is beyond serious!  What you just told me means, that you were lucky, you didn’t die so far!  That you survived your duels so far!  It means that you have to change your tactics and adapt a new fighting style as soon as possible!’_

Bellatrix seems to gradually become more aware of their circumstances, she forces her body to relax and release the young witch.  When she lifts her gaze, by now visually calmer, and meets the young woman’s frightened eyes, she exhales suddenly as if she were punched.

_‘I... I didn’t mean to frighten you.  I’m still working on getting a control over my temper...’_

Neither of them say a word, Hermione’s body is still tense, she is mulling over Bellatrix’s words.  The older woman on the other hand looks out of the window thoughtfully.  The atmosphere in the car gradually becomes more relaxed.

Bellatrix once again doesn’t notice that she is still holding Hermione’s hand, and as a result the young witch can hear bits of her thoughts.

_‘She did tell that she is able to sense magical signature since early this summer, two months at the most...  Besides the way she fought last night, that indicates that she too noticed the changes...’_

At this Hermione has to speak up.

“Bellatrix?”

The older woman seems a bit startled, but after a few minutes gathering her thoughts, she begins:

_‘It’s actually good that you ‘see pictures’, with Lovegood’s way of sensing magical signatures, well I would have problems trying to figure out how to help, how to interpret colours.’_   She slightly scowls in the mentioned young woman’s direction then turns back to Hermione.

_‘But I can help you, even though I was never able to sense signatures myself.’_   The last part of her sentence comes out in a small ‘voice’, and her flashing eyes clearly warn Hermione not to ask more about the issue.  So the ever-inquisitive young woman swallows her questions and waits for Bellatrix to finish her thoughts.

_‘Tell me, what subject was your favourite in Hogwarts, the one that you were the most comfortable with.’_

“Uh, a though question... I’d say Charms, Potions and Transfiguration.”

_‘All three?’_

“Yes.”

_‘What about Defence against Dark Arts?_ ’

“I was good at it, but not as gifted as Harry...”  Her 3rd year exam hovers in front of her mind’s eye for a moment.

_‘And I suppose you were rubbish at Divination?’_

“How did you know?  You could guess this just by learning about my magic?”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes for good measure then says:  
 _‘Girlie, you are sometimes rather predictable.  A person as hooked on logic as you are, is doomed to fail in Divination, from moment zero on...’_

Hermione scowls at Bellatrix and mutters:  
“That was...”  
 _‘I know!  I aim to please!’_   Bellatrix gleefully cackles, or at least Hermione supposes she does that, since no sound comes out of the older woman’s throat...  
“That sentence is so wrong on so many levels, Bellatrix...”

They stare at each other for a moment, then the dark brunette continues:  
 _‘Back to the matter at hand.  Water is the element of change, a flow of energy, it will connect you with the world around you.  What does this tell you about your magic and yourself, Hermione?’_

She curiously eyes the younger woman, waiting.  She won’t degrade either of them to spelling the Gryffindor out this issue.  If she finds out it for herself, in the process accepting only a slight mental nudge from Bellatrix in the right direction, then the next stage could move faster...

The young woman begins to rub at her chin, lost in thought, almost immediately she sits up straighter, her eyes widen in recognition, and she begins to rush out her thoughts, barely taking breath at all:

“Essentially what you said earlier was, that my magic would show me how to be a better witch, once I am able to sense my own signature too...  Mine is water, the element of change...  Change...  That means...  The magical art of change is transfiguration!”

Her almost feverish excited eyes meet Bellatrix’s calmer, _softer?_..., encouraging gaze, and she hurriedly adds:  
“Water also connects me with the world around me...  This indicates that instead of classic offensive and defensive spells, I should concentrate on using transfiguration on my environment, shaping it this way to my will or needs...  Like I did yesterday with crystallizing the blood of those Blue Jackets...”  She trails off in awe, her mind already running all the possibilities, as she smiles at Bellatrix.

The older woman curls her lips in a soft genuine smile, nods once:  
 _‘Very good dear, you figured the first step out...’_

Hermione however isn’t paying attention to her, she is staring at her lap, muttering to herself:  
“How could I have been so dense?!  I have known for years that my patronus is an otter, a water animal, I should have guessed, I should have...”

_‘Hey!’_   Bellatrix grabs Hermione’s chin, deliberately ignoring the involuntarily flinch her touch caused, waits till the young woman meets her eyes then says:  
 _‘Stop this right here.  You know just as well as I that a patronus mainly reflects the caster’s personality, not necessary their magic...’_

Hermione defiantly stares at Bellatrix for a long moment, then her shoulders shag just the slightest bit and she whispers:  
“You are right.”

Silence stretches between them, both of them thinking about possibilities, until Han’s voice steals any false-peacefulness.

“In about ten minutes we are going to arrive at the station in Ashford, I suggest prepare yourself, and don’t forget to stay in character.”

The witches’ and Harry’s body language stiffens, but none of them says a word.  They all know the gravity of their situation, especially the next half an hour...

Han uncomfortably clears his throat, whispers:  
“I’m going to park further down, not in the immediate neighbourhood of the station.  And I am not going to accompany you.”  He looks up at the mirror so his eyes could meet Hermione’s when he says his last sentence.  The young witch stares sadly at the back of her brother’s head, but nevertheless she nods.  She reaches out and grasps his shoulder for a moment.

Han slowly drives by the modern glass-concrete building of the station, turns at the second possibility to the right and parks in a small street.

They all get out, Luna and Harry take a few steps to give a moment of privacy for Han and Hermione.  Narcissa quickly catches on and follows them after grabbing her rather clueless sister’s hand and gently dragging her along.

“Thank you.”  
“There is nothing to be thanked for.  Just be safe, please?  And write me if you can.”  
“I will.  You too be safe, and take care.”  
“Love you baby sis.”  
“Love you too big brother.”

They fiercely hug each other, and just hold each other for a long moment.  Hermione mumbles in Han’s chest:  
“This isn’t a goodbye, I will come back...”  
“I know, it never is.  Peter Pan taught us well, didn’t he?”  Hermione chuckles at his antics, steps back and for a while brother and sister just stare at each other teary eyed.

They simultaneously turn to the others and walk up to them.

“I hope you won’t mind, but I took the liberty and bought your tickets, I do have a few untraceable ways to get them, besides this way at least there is going to be one less footage of you, since you don’t have to stand in front of the camera at the shelter...”

Everyone nods, letting him ramble a bit, they all sense that this is his way to cope.  He suddenly turns to Bellatrix.  
“May I have a word Ms. Black?”  He doesn’t wait for her answer, he swiftly walks a few paces away.  Bellatrix looks questioningly at her sister then at Hermione, but when she sees that they have no idea what this is about, she simply follows Han.

“Look,”  Han lowers his voice, and turns his back to the others, so they can’t see his face.  “I know my sister and you must have some kind of history together, and as I gathered it can’t be any good.  But I trust her judgement, and if she thinks she can trust you at some level, or get past her issues, I am not going to ask her motives.  I will support her, no matter what.  And I do believe that people are able to change.  As a result in some level I am trusting you too.  But so help me god, if I get to know that you harmed my sister in any way, shape or form from here on, I will track you down, and introduce you to the deepest and darkest recesses of muggle minds, even if you are hiding behind an army of wizards!  Am I understood?”

His cold voice, his body language and the sheer determination in his hazel eyes leave no doubt that he is capable to carry out his treats.  Not that Bellatrix means to harm the girl. She is actually impressed by Hannibal.  She nods, her expression is earnest, and she is looking into Han’s eyes.

“Excellent.”  Han’s body changes into a less imposing posture, and he slowly pushes his right hand into his jean pocket.  “Now, the other issue...  I noticed that you were using ink and parchment when you had to communicate with the others.  That is highly uncomfortable, not to mention screams non-muggle, so I got you this.”  He pulls his hand out, holding a small, black, very muggle notebook with white, blank sheets and a simple pen.  He gives it to Bellatrix, who stares at him in wonder.

“Let my sister or Ms. Black charm it, so only you can open it, for security reasons, or use the magical equivalent of a password on it.”

Bellatrix doesn’t understand the last part of his sentence per se, but she can guess what he meant.  She opens the booklet and writes:

_Thank you.  I will do everything in my power to aid her._

Han nods and walks back to the others, quickly handing out the train tickets.  When Bellatrix reaches the small group, she pockets her book and stands next to Hermione.  The young witch looks up from adjusting the straps of her black messenger bag, but she doesn’t say anything.

Han bids everyone goodbye, except his sister, embraces her. After that he stiffly steps up to his car and drives away without looking back.

For a long moment deafening silence surrounds the small group then...

“Well, my dear sisters, best mate and sweetheart...  It’s time to get to France, wouldn’t you agree?”


	8. The Last Stop, a Shadow of a Lion and a Dragon

**Chapter 8 – The Last Stop, a Shadow of a Lion and a Dragon**

As the modern, concrete and steel building of Ashford train station is getting closer, step by step appearing more and more threatening, Hermione would tell an ugly lie if she denied sweat isn’t running down her back. And that she doesn’t need to force herself into taking breaths slowly and steadily in order to prevent herself from feeling sick because of sheer anxiety.

_This moment is going to decide everything. If we are somehow caught, if our cover flies somehow up, we are lost. Truly and wholly. That would be it. The end._

She doesn’t even try to be optimistic. Seven long years of friendship with two trouble makers, one of them the ‘Chosen One’, her own experiences as a muggle born witch in a deeply traditional society, well all of this taught her early on, how to leave not only her childish naiveté, but also any kind of optimism behind. Besides, if you are realistic, you can calculate the possible outcomes of any situation easier; and this alone is an immense help in planning.

So right now she concentrates on her breathing and on her heartbeat, readying her muscles, because let’s face it: Harry would get sooner a Hungarian Horntail as a pet than she would go down without a fight. Well, if the worst case scenario would happen, that is.

_I will not allow anyone to capture me. Not anymore. Not again. Never again. I would rather die fighting taking with me as many Blue Jackets as I can than face the slimmest possibility of another... interrogation._

Her last thought strengthens her resolve even more, but leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She feels the haunting memories wanting to surface on the edges of her consciousness, but she can’t let that happen. Not now. If the night falls they will take the reign of her mind then she is powerless against them, but now, now she can force them down, ban them in the deepest recess of her mind.

 _20 more meters to the glass door._  
Left right, left right. One foot at the time.   
Nothing else matters but taking the next step, never faltering, never stopping.

Her steps lengthen involuntarily her gaze skims over her companions.

Surprisingly their small group falls immediately into a seemingly familiar rhythm as soon as they leave the spot behind, where they said their goodbyes to Han. It feels almost like they have been a group of friends for years.

Hermione snorts amusedly at the impossibility of this thought.

Luna, Narcissa and Harry are going in front of her. The two women have their arms at their elbows interwoven, occasionally whispering and smiling at each other in a truly sisterly manner. Hermione is still a bit surprised at this turn of events, but right now she is more grateful than anything else. At least this way they could both play the roles of sisters more believable, and appear maybe more natural.

Harry, true to his alias walks regally, gracefully next to them, occasionally commenting on the two witches’ conversation, sending a relaxed smile in their direction every now and then.

Hermione would find his dearest friend’s behaviour extremely comical, it is so strange to see Harry behave like a relaxed and polite Draco Malfoy would, however she just hums her approval at how well he has adjusted to his alias.

And this in turn reminds her of her own role.

She steals a glance at the silent witch to her left, and almost shakes her head in amused disbelief.               
The infamous former death eater is practically skipping in her excitement. Her eyes are dancing from building to people around them, taking everything in with an immense interest, especially clothing and objects worn or carried by obviously muggle travellers.

Hermione notices just how awkward they look together, her own posture tense, and somehow she managed to put as much distance between Bellatrix and herself as possible while still walking next to each other on the pavement. She frowns, and reminds herself just what at stake is right now.

The young Gryffindor takes a deep breath, offers her hand to Bellatrix once again, and when she sees that the older woman doesn’t notice her - she is so lost in eagerly taking in everything around them - Hermione takes her hand.

The brunette’s body immediately tenses, she moves to snatch her hand back, and begins to step away from Hermione before she can even notice on a conscious level, what exactly she is doing.

This alone speaks volumes about what must have happened to Bellatrix.             
Hermione immediately regrets her actions, even if she isn’t the cause of the older woman’s distress per se. She is slightly ashamed, since she knows firsthand what exactly the brunette goes through. So she tries to calm her as much as she can.

“Shhh. It’s alright, it’s just me.”

She tries to smile at the older woman, and she sees it’s slowly working.

_Good. We are almost at the entrance._

“Are you alright?” She asks in a soft tone, barely above whisper.

Bellatrix sends her a sheepish look, even runs her palm over the nape of her neck, with a slight red tint on her cheeks she slowly extends her hand to Hermione.

As soon as their skin touches, the by now familiar whispering voice echoes through Hermione’s mind:

_‘I... uhm... I do apologise. I didn’t mean to...’_

“No! Please don’t. We have already spoken about this, you shouldn’t apologise for anything that is a consequence of whatever happened to you after the Battle.”

They don’t let go of each other’s hands. Bellatrix merely nods, but her cheeks redden even more.

Hermione confusedly looks at her, studying the older woman for a long moment, until her eyes widen slightly in surprise.

_She has no idea how to apologise. And now she is blushing because she is ashamed that after she barely managed to force an apology out, she wouldn’t have needed to say it in the first place._

At this thought Hermione barely can keep her grin at bay, after all, the big bad death eater stressing over a small apology is on some level truly hilarious. However she is wise enough not to say anything at all.

But they do have another small issue to solve before they reach the station.

“Maybe... we could... uh...” She nods with her head in the direction of the station while she is vaguely gesturing with her hand between them. And now she is the one, who blushes madly in her annoyance with herself.

_Couldn’t I be more eloquent?!_

The older woman on the other hand has no qualms about grinning at the young brunette’s discomfort. She tugs at their joined hands:

_‘Whatever you say...’_

However the moment of merriment quickly passes as they both remember just what a grave situation they are in. Both of their gaze falls on the imposing building in front of them, both of them turn slightly to look at the other.

Hermione takes a deep breath, readying herself to be once again this _close_ to the former death eater. With a heavy heart she steps closer to her, intervening their fingers, slowly reaching up with her other hand to Bellatrix’s face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Hermione smiles slightly but nervously at the brunette and whispers:

“This is it sweetheart. Are you ready?”

Bellatrix takes a deep breath, seemingly composing herself. For a brief moment she closes her eyes, as if she wants to slip into the person of Katherine Mitchell, the music teacher, who is madly in love with her boyfriend, Luc.

She opens her eyes, and with a _kind and open expression_ on her face she smiles charmingly at the disbelieving young Gryffindor.

Hermione for her part is absolutely taken aback by the changes in the older witch. She is deeply impressed, until her annoyance with herself surfaces once again.

_I should have known that she is a good actress. She has been the first lieutenant of Voldemort’s army, a brilliant duellist and an extremely talented witch after all. Who knows what else she has done in the name of her case?_

She decides to never again underestimate the dark witch.

Bellatrix’s smile widens and with a playful gleam in her eyes, she says:

_‘Hurry up Handsome! We wouldn’t want to deprive my legendary beauty of Paris any longer, would we?’_

Hermione rolls her eyes at the older woman’s antics however she can’t help but let out an amused snort. Her spirit is instantly lifted by Bellatrix’s remark.

“We are so going to land in the catacombs under the city the moment you set foot in Paris, because the pavement isn’t going to be able to hold up the weight of your _legendary_ arrogance...”

Bellatrix playfully sticks her tongue out then begins to drag Hermione behind her by their joined hands, all the while ‘saying’:

_‘Well, I at least have plenty of reasons to be arrogant! Besides why shouldn’t I embrace my better qualities?’_

She suddenly stops her rambling and turns to Hermione with a devilish smile on her face. Her deep whispering voice that still echoes in the young woman’s mind becomes even huskier:

_‘But why are we even bantering Sweet Cheeks? I want to finally get to Paris, and examine it for myself if the beds became even better since my last stay there...’_

With this she winks at Hermione, and saunters away, her hips swinging more sensually than usual, not letting any doubt about what exactly she meant by that sentence.

Hermione for her part just stares dumbfounded at her, rooted to the spot, her cheeks reddening madly. ...And her eyes involuntarily following the older woman’s behind. Until she snaps out of her daze, immediately ashamed at herself. She is disturbed even, after all this is... used to be death eater Lestrange at some point...

She shakes her head and stares after the older witch. Bellatrix is once again skipping. Slowly she turns back to Hermione, and laughs heartily but soundlessly at her expression. Her body language is clearly challenging, trying to egg the Gryffindor on.

Hermione shakes her head again, smiling broadly and quickly catches up with Bellatrix.

Their unexpected banter effectively lifted both of their nervousness. The young brunette takes Bellatrix’s hand again, leans close to her, and whispers in her ear:

“Prepare yourself girlfriend, you are getting this back.”

_‘I truly hope so boyfriend. But do try to be less Gryffindor, it might be more fun.’_

Even Bellatrix’s whisper carries a playful tone in Hermione’s mind. At this Hermione simply has to smile.

“Oh, you have no idea...” Her smile is slowly turning into a smirk. Until seemingly something crosses her mind, her expression turning into a serious one, eyebrows slightly lifted, she asks curiously:

“What is the deal with these new nicknames? How on Earth did you even come across them? I highly doubt that ‘Sweet Cheeks’ is part of the everyday vocabulary in pure blood circles or even...” Here she trails off, as if she were searching for the right word. “...among your former colleagues.”

Hermione’s cheeks are flaming red, as if she wasn’t sure where exactly she should hide in her mortification. Bellatrix naturally grabs the opportunity to tease the poor Gryffindor.

‘ _My, my, don’t you have a golden tongue, Sugar Plum? If you want to know, my former colleagues and I...’_ Here she chuckles at the word. _‘...used to invade any magical person’s mind, whom we took interest in.’_

For a brief moment something crosses Bellatrix’s eyes, something similar to unease, as if she knew, her actions were not only offensive, but she recognised the error in her ways. But in the next moment the look is already gone and she cheerfully adds:

_‘If you only knew just how much delightful dirty little secrets each and every person has, you would be quite entertained too...’_

Her smile is positively mischievous while saying this, and Hermione, well she is simply speechless, until she turns her eyes towards the sky and mutters:

“Why do I even bother?”

With a deep sigh she looks back at the older witch and says:

“Would you please cease to practice these stylistic idiocies on me? This situation is bizarre enough as it is; please don’t make it any more surreal on purpose.”

Her tone and eyes hold just enough fatigue and a hint of fearful desperation for Bellatrix to become serious.

_‘Alright, Hermione.’_

They share a tentative smile, before Bellatrix ruins their truce:

_‘But Handsome stays. After all you are not that bad to look at for a young woman of your age.’_

With that she winks at the red faced, mortified Gryffindor.

Luna, Narcissa and Harry are about to enter the station, when they turn back to look at the two witches, just in time to see how a suspiciously giddy Bellatrix stepping up to them, dragging a clearly shaken, sickly pale Hermione behind by their joined hands.

Harry and Narcissa share a look, both of them choosing not to say anything. Harry takes a deep breath, his right hand slowly, elegantly glides up and with his fingertips he touches the metallic surface of the handle. He pushes the door open gesturing the women to go on in.

At this Narcissa feels the need to roll her eyes, remembering her role, she allows herself this very un-ladylike gesture.

 _Leave it to Harry Potter to find his manners in a situation that very well has the potential to turn into a bloodbath. Yes, when else let the women in your company enter the building before you, when you know for certain that your enemies are waiting for you? All the while masking this rather cunning idea as a polite gesture. How very Slytherin of him._ Narcissa has to smile at this thought; she can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, maybe after all something is truly rubbing off on the boy. On the other hand, she is the most experienced duellist in their little group, so she does see the strategic advantages too.

She looks up at Harry, meeting his eyes, trying to convey she approves of his idea... And she rolls her eyes again in the next moment. The boy is absolutely clueless; he really holds the door out of politeness. _Some Gryffindors are truly beyond any hope..._

With this thought Narcissa finally enters the station, holds her breath, her heart is drumming in her chest, she readies her muscles, all the while trying to appear nonchalant and calm...  

... but nothing happens. She didn’t set any magical traps or alarms off; nobody is running in her direction, nobody is looking at her way as far as she can tell. She almost looks back confusedly at the others, momentarily not understanding, but in the last moment she reminds herself to stay in her character.

So she easily saunters into the main hall. Narcissa hears that the others are following her. Luna catches up with her, easily smiling up at the former blond. Her eyes mirror just a hint of concern, and if Narcissa really concentrates, she can recognise the slightly more tensed posture of Luna’s shoulders.

_She felt it too. Or rather she didn’t feel anything at all either. This must mean..._

“I’m so excited to see Paris again. It’s going to be as marvellous and as beautiful as ever. We are going to have a wonderful time there, don’t you think sister?”

She tries to smile reassuringly at the younger blond. Then Narcissa turns her body smoothly, not caring that she walks backwards and not at all properly, she makes sure that her eyes linger on the door then with a warm smile she looks at Hermione too.

“Hurry up little brother! Paris is waiting for us!” Her smile just widens when she sees the bushy haired young witch with her sister.

Truth be told, she is slightly concerned about the duo, but so far they seem to be doing just fine. However, when her gaze meets Hermione’s and when she sees the barely there subtle headshake, she has her confirmation. She curiously follows the young Gryffindor’s eyes when they seemingly wander off, and looks at the platforms. Her eyes quickly find Hermione’s again, she winks at her, conveying she understood. Then she lifts her eyebrows in a teasing manner and with a not at all concealed merriment watches as Bellatrix excitedly tugs Hermione’s hand. The impossible duo wanders off to look at muggle magazines, since Bellatrix seems to be fascinated by the unmoving pictures.

Hermione just sticks her tongue out at the former blond, who is taken aback for a moment, before she realises this must count as a rather childish but sisterly gesture. Against everything that her upbringing dictates, she lets her emotions out, she doesn’t suppress her chuckle. Slightly shaking her head in her amusement she falls in step with Luna once again, and smiles at the young witch.

“Ladies, our train is going to leave from platform six.” Harry tries to even deepen his voice he doesn’t merely rely on expressing himself more eloquent.

Narcissa smiles easily at him which in turn makes Harry blush madly.       
“Thank you, Max! But I do believe we should wait for my little brother.”

All three of them simultaneously turn towards the two witches, Bellatrix standing relaxed at the newsstand, Hermione next to her, holding her hand and playing with Bellatrix’s fingers seemingly unconsciously. The older witch appears to search for a particular magazine.

Bellatrix however is merely communicating with Hermione.

‘ _Tap my index finger for no, and my thumb for yes, don’t say a word.’_

She waits, eyes unseeingly gliding over the colourful fronts of the magazines, until she feels her thumb is slightly caressed.

 _‘Hmm, I said tap, but if you want to caress me, go ahead...’_ She winks at Hermione, who somehow manages to suppress not only her blush, but the need to roll her eyes too.

_‘There wasn’t any ward activated by crossing the imaginary threshold, correct?’_

Nervous tapping on her thumb confirms her suspicions.

_‘And there aren’t any strange magical signatures that you could detect so far, correct?’_

Again, a slight caress on her thumb.

_‘Hmm... The wards must be then around the platforms, this way they could lull the more inexperienced witches and wizards into a false sense of safety. They could think that there is no detection charm around this station. This in turn means that there must be several Blue Jackets lingering here in the entrance hall too, gauging one’s expression when they enter. And since they are Blue Jackets, you couldn’t sense them. Keep your eyes open, I have already seen four wizards.’_

She feels the young witch staring at her because of her last sentence. She merely hopes that the girl isn’t too obvious about it...

The same thought crosses Hermione’s mind a bit belatedly too, this and their silent stay at the newsstand worries her, so she thinks hastily what she could do to possibly ease any unwanted suspicions directed at them.

She steps closer to Bellatrix, gathers her at this point nonexistent courage and slowly kisses the older woman on her cheek, lingering there a bit hoping to make an impression of someone, who kisses her, his girlfriend all the time. Bellatrix is simply too astonished to do anything on a conscious level. However her mouth opens slightly in her surprise, her cheeks take on a light shade of pink, and she slowly turns her head to look at Hermione, more specifically at her lips, all in all her reaction could be easily mistaken for someone wanting more than a simple kiss on the cheek.

Hermione grins at her, steps behind Bellatrix and embraces her waist whispering in her ear:

“I told you, you would get it back girlfriend.”

She feels Bellatrix relax against her, and her silent laughter as it shakes her body. The older witch places her hand upon Hermione’s on her belly, and the familiar whispering voice fills Hermione’s head:

_‘I’m impressed. However, we should go, the train leaves in about a quarter hour.’_

Hermione with her fee hand reaches over Bellatrix to the magazines she grabs an issue discussing the French impressionists, pays for it then turns to face Bellatrix and gives her the magazine with an easy smile:

“I think you were looking for this sweetheart.”

The young Gryffindor really kills two birds with one stone with this gesture, in her eyes at least. On one hand, this way their stay in front of the newsstand is less suspicious, on the other hand Bellatrix seems to be quite taken so far with the endless wonder the muggle world could mean, and surely she hasn’t seen many muggle pieces of art yet.

Bellatrix however seems to have entirely different thoughts.

‘ _You, you would really buy me this?’_

Her eyes are shining so brightly and her smile is so radiant that Hermione is taken aback, not understanding her for a moment. She hesitatingly caresses Bellatrix’s thumb.

 _‘Thank you!’_ With his Bellatrix holds her hand more tightly for a moment.

Hermione has the distinct feeling that if they both were less broken, and the older witch more versed in acceptable social gestures, she might have gotten a hug just now. The young witch doesn’t quite know whether to be sad because of the proof just how neglected this person in front of her must have been her whole life, or simply be happy for how elated she seems about getting a small magazine. At the end she smiles at Bellatrix and turns to catch up with Harry, Luna and Narcissa, the former death eater excitedly strolling by her side, their joined hands dangling between them.

The small group begins to walk to platform six.              
There aren’t as many people in Ashford train station as in King’s Cross on the first September. The atmosphere is naturally less chaotic, and since this is the last stop of an international train in England, the air is always filled with the music of many foreign languages. Here the air doesn’t seem to smell of iron, sweat, cheap food, dust and semi-dried out chewing gums, rather it is practically buzzing with excitement, taking a big breath one could almost taste the sweetness of being on the road, of discovering new parts of the world. Several young women and men are heading to their trains, the weight of their backpacks doesn’t even seem to register in their mind nothing seems to exist but this journey and their friends. Young and old, everyone seems to partake in this almost devoted mood, lives brushing against each other for a few moments, their only connection is the same destination, the same road.

Right before they step on the platform, all five of them look at the others, silently trying to tell everything that they would never say aloud.

_I will be always grateful for your friendship. I am never taking you granted again. I love you. You saved my life. At least we are trying, we are together in this too, and I wouldn’t want anybody else by my side but you. Thank you._

Oddly enough Luna makes the first step, her movements don’t falter, her eyes don’t even fall shut as the strong magical wards wash over her body. All her cells scream at her that she should grasp her wand right now and dispel somehow this unwanted energy coursing in her veins. The quirky young witch however does nothing of this sort. She walks ahead in a comfortable space and she ignores the man who watches her every move very closely while he is smoking a pipe as he lazily leans against a pillar, another man standing close to the smoker wants to appear as nonchalant as possible, but he fails miserably.

Luna, despite her limited knowledge about contemporary muggle customs and culture, she knows right away that the two of them are Blue Jackets. Even if she didn’t know that most of today’s muggles prefer a cigarette above pipes, the slightly purplish tint of the smoke indicates that the tobacco is of magical origin. The other one can’t seem to not gawk at the funnier muggle objects the travellers have on them.

The young Ravenclaw turns back to the others, Hermione and Bellatrix cross the line next, Bellatrix since she can’t feel anything is merely curious eying the high speed train. Hermione on the other hand has to step even closer to Bellatrix, when the wards cause colours to explode in her eyes, she is dizzy and blinded for a moment, but strangely it is enough to feel Bellatrix’s hand in hers to prevent her panic. Not to mention the older woman’s wayward but seemingly constant thoughts as she comments the world around them have not only a calming effect on Hermione right now, but they amuse her too, immensely. She doubts Bellatrix is aware that she is ‘broadcasting’ her thoughts.

_‘That train looks like someone pressed it out of a giant tube! Ah and there is another wizard, and yes, he is another Blue Jacket, he even stands in the classic opening pose for a duel. Could someone do any more miserable job to fit in?! Yes you dork, adjust your wand too now, you just had to prove you are an even bigger idiot than I originally thought. If he were in my troop I would slap him silly, no no, he would have never been in my troop, I would have chosen a pile of dragon poop over him any time, pff...’_

Here Hermione supposes Bellatrix must have had enough of the poor bastard, since her next thought are again directed at the train:

_‘No chimney, no steam or whatsoever, it isn’t even red! Hmm, and here I thought the Hogwarts Express was interesting... Is it even called chimney on a moving object or does it have another name?’_

Hermione slowly regains her sight just in time to see Narcissa and Harry entering the warded area. The former blond true to her infamous icy mask of indifference doesn’t let on that she felt anything strange at all. Harry however gasps at the unexpected intensity of the wards, which in turn immediately peaks the suspicion of at least half a dozen Blue Jackets. Hermione can easily distinguish them in the crowd now, that all of their postures are stiffened with rapt attention, and possible bloodlust.

Harry trying to dissolve the tension, he hits his chest with his fist a few times, somehow manages to cough convincingly and begins to mutter loudly about:

“Bloody Tic Tacs, never taking them again as they always somehow land in my lungs...”

His quick thinking to use an explicitly muggle reference, and the fact that the wards aren’t triggered since none of them have changed their appearance magically, seem to save their skin for now. The Blue Jackets slowly relax and turn back to observe other travellers.

“Oh look, that’s our train! Come on sister and brother, I want to finally see Paris again!”

Luna practically drags Narcissa by her hand to the nearest door. Harry is casually walking behind them, he shakes his head when Narcissa laughs at Luna’s antics. Hermione and Bellatrix too get in the train and begin to follow the others. They easily find an unoccupied compartment. Narcissa takes a window seat, Luna the one next to her, her head is already on Narcissa’s shoulder, the older witch looks down at Luna surprised but with a small smile on her features. Harry sits down close to the door, and puts his feet up on the empty seat next to Luna. Bellatrix places down her magazine right across from her sister when suddenly her whole posture seems to freeze, and all colour drains from her features... The endless fear she seems to radiate at this moment threatens to swallow her alive.

_Oh bloody hell, this isn’t good, not good at all._

Narcissa notices the changes in her sister the same time as Hermione does, she is about to leap out of her seat, when Hermione’s clear voice reaches her.

“Anaïs!”

_Who? Her sister needs her, and they are talking about... Oh, that’s her name. Her fake name, the person she is supposed to be now._

She looks up pleadingly at Hermione, but the young witch only mouths: _let me_. On a conscious level she knows that she should let Hermione take care of this, for the sake of their aliases, and for the sole reason that the young witch must have more experience or at least a better understanding at how to deal with an episode like this one. But never ever has anybody else taken care of her family but her. At the end she looks up again at her sister, and the miserable state Bellatrix is already in brings tears to her eyes. Never ever has she seen her courageous, reckless, sometimes slightly crazy, but brilliant and strong sister this small, this fear- and pitiful. She can’t do anything for her right now, she swallows the last crumbles of her pride, forces herself not to think about how she failed her sister once again, and lets that blasted Slytherin self preservation -by now without any conscious thought on her part- kick in. She nods once at Hermione.

The few seconds that takes Narcissa to decide seem Hermione almost an eternity. Bellatrix is by now as motionless as a statue, and Hermione just knows that whatever the older witch saw on the platform through the window catapulted her darkest memories to the surface.

As soon as she sees Narcissa giving her consent, she nervously steps up next to Bellatrix, trying to shield her from prying eyes on the platform as much as possible.  
Hermione has never seen anybody in such a catatonic state in her life. Her worry for the witch, the fear that they might be discovered at any moment, and her self-doubt that she can do anything at all at this point consume almost every one of her conscious thoughts, thus the constant lingering fear of Death Eater Lestrange doesn’t surface now.   
For the first time Hermione can keep her composure in the immediate proximity of her once torturer during a stress situation.

However this alone doesn’t help her solve this problem. She has no idea how to approach Bellatrix if she is this far gone.

 _I can’t touch her she might think she is back there..._  
Then... there is nothing else left but to try something that has already helped once. Details. Facts.  
Two key words: slowly and gradually.

Hermione leans close to Bellatrix, and begins to whisper the first thing that crosses her mind, hoping that somehow a non-threatening voice will suffice to ease the dark brunette into a less catatonic state.

“Dinosaurs have fascinated not only muggle scientists but the public at large too ever since the 19th century. Some species of them were the biggest animals that have ever walked the face of Earth. I have always found particularly interesting that some herbivore dinosaurs like the sauropods had to develop high tooth replacement –on average replacing each tooth once every month, because their huge intake of food that their enormous body needed taxed their teeth to this extreme degree. Other herbivore dinosaurs on the other hand didn’t have teeth at all, so they swallowed stones thus crumbling the already swallowed plants in their stomachs, not dissimilarly like common chickens do today.”

She is beyond nervous, her palms are sweaty and she has never felt in all her life this much out of her depth. She feels Narcissa’s astonished look, Luna worried but fascinated eyes on her, and she feels Harry’s amused confusion practically radiating.  
But this doesn’t change the fact, that she has no idea what she is doing.  
No idea at all.  
She just... knows how it is to be trapped in seemingly endless fear, and if she could have her way, she wouldn’t let anybody to reach this point. Not even her former tormentor. Not to mention the pressing and harsh reality around them that could result in the very violent and painful end of their lives, literally.

So she doesn’t give in the need to cry about how useless, how inadequate, how broken she is. Maybe she truly is nothing but an _itty-bitty mudblood_ playing war. A scared little girl, who has been swimming in blood for years no matter where she went...

NO! She won’t. She can’t. She is more than that! And... she is needed now.

_They count on me._

But what on earth is she doing?!

Her nervous last word is still lingering in the air. She tries to scrape her clichéd courage together that is supposed to blanket her heart all the time. But in reality she just feels her ‘courage’ merely weight down her mind, like the last lingering scent of an unwanted, fatigued lover, known to the depth of boredom, of disgust and self-hatred...  
At the end she lifts her eyes, without courage, solely her infamous curiosity driving her on, and she begins to search _her_ face for any kind of reaction to her words.

 _Her_ eyes are still unfocused, but... _she_ is less pale and _her_ posture maybe less... rigid? Almost as if _she_ were leaning closer to Hermione subconsciously.

_Alright then._

She still has no idea, what exactly she is doing nevertheless she feels she should carry on.

“It seems logical to assume that to the existence of myths about dragons in several muggle cultures have not only accidental sightings of actual dragons contributed throughout the centuries, but maybe the earliest, perhaps undocumented founds of dinosaurs’ bones too. At least this has been my hypothesis since I got my Hogwarts letter...”

She slowly trails off. She is raptly paying attention to any minuscule changes on the older woman. Their train is leaving any moment now she is simply running out of time... However the dark brunette seems to look slightly better, her posture is even more relaxed, but she still hasn’t moved an inch, her eyes are still directed albeit unseeingly at something on the platform. Hermione thinks, she could try a different approach now. Or rather she hopes she isn’t too wrong in reading the signs. She decides to be more direct.

“Bellatrix?”

Almost as if hearing her name works a wonder, the older witch blinks once, she sways to the left, almost as if she lost her footing, but in the last moment she catches herself. Her hands ball into fists, she bites down her lower lip hard and her eyes slowly fall shut, her eyebrows knitted in desperate concentration.

Hermione has the distinct feeling that nothing but sheer willpower keeps the older woman standing. Almost as if she were _fighting_ something, anything, the whole world, or herself maybe.

“Bellatrix?” She tries again, and this time, there is a more direct response, and she almost wishes there weren’t.

The moment the name leaves her lips fake blue eyes are directed at her, mirroring fear, confusion, thousands of unshed tears and no small amount of desperation. Hermione can’t move, can’t squeeze out a sound out of her suddenly raw throat, and her mind seems to unable to process the broken person in front of her with the image that lived in her about Bella Black.

The only thing she hears is her own selfish thought:

_No. Please don’t. I can’t..._

But then a tear does escape, running lazily down towards a once proud chin, fat with its liquid, transparent arrogance and self importance, the old, harsh light of the train absurdly glinting in it.

And Hermione is hit with the startling realization that she has never anticipated that she could hate a drop of salty water with this much passion in all her life. But before she can overcome the dumbstruck, stupefied haze that her existence seemingly narrowed down at, she feels the body in front of her turn and step up to her, diminishing all distance between them with as much force and need that she looses her balance for a moment. However, as soon as she regains her footing, she embraces the older woman without any conscious thought on her part.

Bellatrix looks so small and lost, her head is nestled under Hermione’s chin, her arms are pressed to her own chest awkwardly between their bodies, almost as if she were trying to protect herself even in the young woman’s embrace. Almost as if she were trying to keep the remaining parts of her soul inside.

Hermione is too stunned to think of her own issues, or even to register them, she just begins to rub the older witch’s back in big slow circles. She feels as if she were the last anchor holding the brunette to this world, she feels that Bellatrix’s breathing is uneven, raw, desperate like a gutted animal’s, but she knows for certain that no other tears have fallen.

Almost on its own accord a ragged whisper leaves her mouth and gets lost in straightened out dark brown hair:

“I am here, you are not alone.”

Hermione’s self-hatred subsides for a bit, at least she is able to tell the truth, not mindless lies about how everything is going to be alright, because for them it might never be ‘alright’ again. At least she is telling the truth, at least she is meaning it, all the while seeing this woman as someone who needs her help, and nothing else. Just that, a broken woman without a past. Because she has to refuse the existence of Bellatrix’ past, she can’t deal with those thoughts too at the moment.

“I am here. You are not alone.”

At last she feels Bellatrix nod, she feels that she turns her hands and she fists her green shirt, her breathing is substantially calmer.  
Hermione thinks that now the older woman might ‘say’ something, so she moves her left hand to Bellatrix’ bare forearm, while she is still slowly rubbing her back with her right.

“You are not alone.”

Heavy silence stretches between them, until a tentative, even softer than usual whispering voice fills her head:

_‘I know.’_

Then almost desperately:

‘ _Little Lion?’_

Hermione feeling that this might be a one time chance to hear what Bella has to say, pushes back her curiosity and doesn’t ask about the name, yet.

 _‘I... I think.’_ She imagines Bellatrix swallowing thickly, since she can’t hear nor see her.   
_‘I think this is truly the end.’_ The older woman’s body shakes violently once, but she continues before an absolutely dumbstruck Hermione can say anything:  
‘ _I think I have gone truly mad, and this time there won’t be any going back.’_

Suddenly too scared and too stunned the young Gryffindor can’t think anything of meaning, let alone remember how to speak. But Bellatrix continues, almost as if she wasn’t even interested in a dialogue.

_‘I... I have hallucinations worse and more detailed than ever, and they last longer too.’_

Now Hermione too begins to tremble and tries to overpower her growing nausea.

 _‘I thought...’_ Here she can’t help but think that if Bellatrix could say this out aloud, she would have spat this verb, disgusted, horrified.   
_‘... that I managed to flee from this place. I thought that I found my sister. I thought that one day I could live without the heartache my lost magic left behind. Because I hoped I could be so glad to be simply alive that that would be enough, one day...’_

As Hermione ‘hears’ this sentence, she feels her heart ache for this broken, once intimidating woman, her eyes misting over despite her efforts to swallow down somehow her own tears.

_‘I thought that I have even met the real you, Little Lion.’_

_She met the real me?! Little Lion, again? Wait a minute!  
_ However before Hermione could verify her sinking suspicions, Bellatrix carries on:

_‘But then I saw her face again. She is there, that woman, she is outside, and she will come for me to finish this time for good. And I... I am so tired, I don’t want to wake up anymore, just... Let me be with you here for a few moments more. After all it all will soon end.’_

Hermione looks down horrified and in alarm at Bellatrix’ head.  
 _Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! She must have seen one of the persons, or the woman who tortured her while being captured in the Blue Jackets’ hands, and now she thinks everything that has happened since before her escape has been a trick that her mind played at her. Oh bloody hell! What do I do? How could I prove her that this is real... This alone is absurd and if I were inclined to believe in some philosophical teaching this in itself is an impossible task. What do... Wait! The weakest points of all fantasies are...?. Details. Fuck._

The young witch goes at great lengths to mask her desperation and fear, she evens out her breathing, clears her throat, slowly leans back, so she is able to look Bellatrix in the eye, calmly she lifts her left hand to Bellatrix’ chin, tilting her head back so they can look into each other’s eyes:

“Do I look real to you Bellatrix?” She is trying to direct her attention towards her new shorter haircut, her green coloured lenses.

_‘You always do.’_

_Well. Other tactic._

“Look down at the side of my thighs. Do you see the way how my trousers are sewn together? This is a muggle piece of clothing, they use a different technique than witches and wizards do, when they sew their cloths. Even if you have seen muggle clothing up close, this small of a detail was surely unimportant to you, so you weren’t paying attention to it. And you couldn’t imagine, you couldn’t picture another reality with this many small details in it. This proves that you did flee, you did meet Narcissa, you did meet Luna, Harry me and my very muggle brother. Think Bellatrix!”

Almost as if she were in a fearful, fragile trance Bellatrix reaches out wide eyed, open mounted, doubt and hope fighting over her features and runs down her fingertips down at Hermione’s thigh. The young witch tries not to squirm, not to show her discomfort, and when she sees that the former Slytherin is still not quite convinced she continues:

“Look at my hands, at the small scars, at the differently coloured spots on my skin, at my nails, at the small rifts on my fingertips, look at the white discoloration on my nails, look at the lines on my palms. Look and think! Have my hands ever been this meticulously detailed, when there has been just the two of us?” She shudders at her last sentence since her only memory with Bellatrix, before this newest nightmare had begun with Selach and his regime, is her torture at Malfoy manor. However somehow she manages to keep these dark memories at bay and she looks with her breath held back at Bellatrix.

The brunette begins to slowly trace every line, scare, discolouration and even fine hairs on Hermione’s hand. Then after long moments heavy with disturbing silence she looks up at the young Gryffindor her eyes bright with wonder and hope:

_‘You are real. And here. With me. Outside my head.’_

“Yes. We are outside of your head and both of us very much real.” She can’t help but smile tentatively at Bellatrix and her strange wording.

Bellatrix in turn beams up at Hermione, her smile so open and so heartfelt so... unburdened:

_‘Thank you Little Lion.’_

At this moment the train lurches forward and slowly leaves Ashford behind. Narcissa, Luna and Harry are all curiously staring at them, while Hermione distractedly realises she has never seen the stranger’s face that caused so much pain in such a short time.

She takes a seat next to Harry in front of Luna, leaving a place free for Bellatrix in front of her sister. However the dark brunette is awkwardly fumbling with the hem of her band t-shirt and has yet to move apart from putting her weight from one leg to the other. Hermione curiously looks up at her and slowly reaches her hand out, so they have skin to skin contact again.

_‘Could I...? May I...? Would you be...?’_

It is clear that Bellatrix can’t really ask what her heart desires. Hermione considers the awkward witch for a long moment.

_Questions are burning me alive, plus there is the matter of our aliases too, not to mention it seems to ease her._

She doesn’t say a word, merely tugs at their joined hands.   
Bellatrix as shy and awkward as an acne ridden teenage boy on the first day of middle school slowly sits down at Hermione’s lap, sending her a nervous, small, close lipped smile.

The young Gryffindor can’t help but chuckle at the absurdness at their situation, some changes in Bellatrix are quite amusing, others as her previous episode shows... Well Hermione can’t even find the words just yet, and as the magnitude of the past few minutes sinks in, stirring slightly her own issues up, her chuckle turns hysterical and dies down quickly. However she doesn’t want to add further to Bellatrix’ troubles, so she slowly resumes rubbing the brunette’s back, while she is indicating that she should lean her head on her shoulder.

“You must be really exhausted, rediscovering reality could do that to you.” She keeps her tone light and smiles down at the now sheepish looking blushing witch. Bellatrix moves a bit until she finds a comfortable place on Hermione’s lap, she nestles her head once again under the younger woman’s chin, and sighs soundlessly.

Hermione slowly takes one of Bellatrix’ hands with her right, and quietly whispers in her hair:  
“You, you seem like you feel... comfortable with me.” She prompts.

Bellatrix doesn’t answer apart from tightening her hold on Hermione’s hand for a moment.

“Little Lion?” Hermione tries again, because this question simply won’t let her be until she asks.

The older witch seems to consider something then slowly begins:

_‘You surely are aware that in order to be a half decent legilimens or occlumens you need to arrange your mind, your memories into a specific order.’_

The young Gryffindor nods not wanting to interrupt but showing that she pays attention.

_‘This takes a long time, but once you are a trained occlumens, you can visit any memory you have and quasi relieve them.’_

At this Hermione is filled with dread and she feels that Bellatrix is squirming with unease.   
_Relieve them? Please don’t say that she wanted to relieve..._

‘ _As your memories are in particular order, you also could flee into one of them when in time of extreme... distress.’_

 _Distress... Oh. Well fuck._ She carefully asks in a neutral tone:

“Why me?”

 _‘No! Wait! It wasn’t... I have never...’_   
Bellatrix stops then finally gathers herself.   
_‘I have never visited the memories of that day. Just you.’_

“I... beg your pardon?”

‘ _We were just having conversations. I mean at first you were mocking me when I raged, sobbed and had my usual tantrums even inside my head, even after just being..._ ’ She swallows hard then continues.

‘ _You were helping me, yes with clichéd words that my mind put into your mouth, it wasn’t the real you, but nevertheless it was comforting when... everything else wasn’t. So as the days went by you slowly became Little Lion.’_

“Why me?” She asks once again.

‘ _You were one of the last persons whom I had contact with before...’  
_ She falls silent. After a few long moments filled with the train’s mechanic sounds with a heavy silent sigh she ‘says’:

_‘You have always been the epitome of... different in my mind’s eye. Different from anything that I know for real, from my world, from what I deemed worthy, from a different house, younger, merely a girl yet tirelessly taking on an important role in a war that you shouldn’t have been part of it in the first place... ’_

She is choosing silence to speak to her for a while then:

_‘I could say many other things but in the end it comes down to the point that my whole world was being taken away from me slowly but steadily. And what else lies behind the known as the unknown, as The Different, or at least a part of it?’_

_‘So I turned to a picture that lived of you in me as a comfort, to someone who could talk to me in the darkest hours of my life.’_

Hermione on an impulse embraces, and startles the living daylight out of Bellatrix. The brunette stiffens and looks up at the young witch with as much understanding as a grown up, well fed frog would regard a microwave.

_‘I didn’t offend you, did I?’_

Hermione despite her better judgment laughs at this, especially since Bellatrix’ eyebrows are knitted in confusion and slight horror.

“No, you didn’t. Far from it actually.”

_‘Then why would you squeeze my ribs? Unless... Oh. OH! Now I see! And I know the socially acceptable gesture for a surprise embrace too!’_

With this and utter concentration written on her face she slowly tightens her hand around Hermione’s then lets go. She looks up mildly impressed with herself at Hermione, who can’t help but laugh again at this face.

“Thank you for telling me this Bellatrix.” She says as soon as her mood becomes more serious.

She feels the older woman nestling back against her chest nodding. Hermione resumes rubbing her back slowly and whispers:

“Sleep for now, we still have hours till we reach Paris.”

Bellatrix is already dozing off. Only now dares Hermione lift her gaze to meet the others’ eyes. Luna is already sleeping leaned against Narcissa. Harry, with a melancholy expression on his face stares out of the door. Hermione isn’t quite sure if he is observing the corridor, looking out for any threats or is merely lost in thoughts. Narcissa on the other hand looks right back in Hermione’s eyes. The now brunette former blond nods once at Hermione and smiles at her sadly, conveying her gratitude, and something else the young woman has never imagined to see on her face: a hint of self-loathing.

Narcissa has rarely ever in her life felt this useless and incapable than in the moments of Bella’s break down. And that is saying something given the fact that she has been the wife of Lucius Malfoy.

_I can’t even protect her. Why am I doing this?!_

She feels Luna repositioning her head on her shoulder in her dream. The quirky young witch snorts once loudly and she mumbles something in her sleep. Narcissa has to smile down at her.

_Yes. Thank you. And you are absolutely right. I know why I am doing everything in my life. But a small reminder for a strengthened composure never hurts._

With this she looks out the dirty train window recalling one of her favourite but by now bittersweet memories with her son, so she can gather her strength and remind herself once again, why she is willing to do anything she does.

_Their biweekly brunch has always been an important affair in their circle of ‘friends’. This was the time, when the Zabini’s, the Nott’s, the Parkinson’s and the Malfoy’s gathered at one of their houses to spend a morning together in a less formal manner than at the most pureblood balls. This tradition served many purposes. The women exchanged the most recent stories of their social stand, or could plan upcoming events together, the men, lead by Lucius, could decide upon the finer points of their political agenda, and how to approach them in the Ministry, but the most important purpose has always been to teach their children, whose company counts as socially acceptable, even if this has never been spelled out as such._

_On that day it was the Malfoy’s turn to hold the brunch. Narcissa has never particularly cared for Lucius’s closest company, and frankly she found most of the conversations with other pureblood housewives quite taxing, since the discussion of any academic topic counted as un-ladylike, therefore to be avoided at any costs in decent company. However this was Lucius’s wish, and at the end his advantage in the pureblood society was hers too, albeit a quite one, so she indulged him. Or rather this was what she let Lucius think.  
Her real but unspoken goal behind these brunches has always been ensuring Draco any opportunity to make friends._

_Because surprisingly her son was exceptionally shy at the age of four._

_Lucius merely scoffed disapprovingly at the boy’s antics, if Draco happened to hid behind his mother, whenever his father invited a new business partner of his to their house. He apparently thought that all Malfoy’s should take in their arrogance with the mother milk, after all they are one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain, thus superior to almost everyone.  
Narcissa however (after she swallowed back her frustration with her husband), tried everything in her power to encourage her little son to be more outgoing. Suffering through never ending mindless but polite conversations didn’t even matter for her if it meant that Draco could enjoy the company of other children._

_Draco has always been undoubtedly the brightest and most talented child in their circles, thus he shouldn’t be afraid of socialising, he shouldn’t feel the need to hide from other people. Sadly, the other children too seemed to know of her son’s intelligence, so Draco was (as far as Narcissa could understand it) perceived as intimidating. However the fact that worried her more was that the other children sensed that they could have an advantage of sorts by spending time with the bright boy, and this naturally lead to being dishonest with Draco, which in turn made Draco more wary of his environment, and even less ready to open up._

_Narcissa knew logically that this view of life isn’t the children’s fault per se, they were after all brought up in the Slytherin sense of self-preservation from the youngest age possibly on, however she couldn’t help but feel contempt towards these children. At this point she merely hoped that they could see past Draco’s talent and intelligence, that one day they would discover that Draco is so much more. Until then she would go on with these brunches._

_Draco has always been a very curious child he has always been drawn to every possibility of understanding more, learning more of the world. Narcissa sometimes felt that this curiosity excludes people, her little son seems to be too intimidated by them, and he hasn’t found his courage yet to want to discover people in general too, and just what a mystery they could be. As a result he was very shy._

_And right now, at the age of four, he didn’t feel the need to talk to anyone apart from his godfather and Narcissa herself. Lucius’s distant way of upbringing made Draco uneasy around him, but this also gave Lucious an air of mystery, undiscovered wonder in Draco’s eyes. He saw his father as the most influential, most well-liked, most intelligent person, so naturally he idolised him, and wanted to do nearly anything just for the sole reason that his father would be proud of him.  
And this alone worried Narcissa more than anything given the... _ political activities _Lucius partook in._

_She tried to teach her son to listen to his heart, she tried to teach him the importance of not underestimating people based on their upbringing or origin, like his father does. She tried to make him understand that it is better, more advantageous in a Slytherin way of sense to asses people with different origins as theirs as unknowns, as people who operate, think differently than them, rather than instantly judge and hate them._

Now, years after that day she looks out of the train window, not seeing anything, not finding the strength in herself to avoid the fall of that one sole sad teardrop. She can’t help but feel that she failed her son, failed protecting him from doing his father’s mistakes, that she failed him because she couldn’t broke up the influence of his father on him at the right time.   
But she doesn’t want to indulge in her self-hatred right now, she needs to be strong, for Draco’s future, for a second chance with her sister, for a... She uncertainly looks at the three young adults in the compartment, her eyes falling on Luna, on Hermione, and suddenly she dares to think through her previous line of thought. Yes, she must be strong for these young people here, who were so willing to try a new beginning, even though the world seems to crumbling down around them.          
She turns her head back to the window, back to one of her most beautiful memories of Draco, pushing back the bittersweetness of those peaceful times in the back of her head.

_That day as soon as the final lingering guests left their manor, Narcissa run out of the balcony door that opened to the fields behind the house. She ignored Lucius’s disbelieving look – a lady of her status simply does not hurry, not to mention run- gathered up her robes – her mother must have turned in her grave because of the scandal her uncovered ankles could have caused- and she began to run as fast as she could._

_She was headed to the oldest oak tree in the immediate garden of Malfoy manor. This oak was where her little boy hid recently, if something happened to him, that he couldn’t quite grasp as an adult as his father wishes of him._

_When she saw the group of whispering children leave hurriedly ahead of their parents, Draco nowhere in sight, despite bringing him up to have better manners, despite knowing how important it is to see a guest out, well in that moment Narcissa knew that something must have happened._

_She didn’t care about how the branches caught her billowing robes, she just run as fast as she could towards the oak tree. She was desperate to get to Draco, anxious about what could have occurred, and she was beyond furious about the wards around the manor that prevented even her from apparating._

_When finally the tree was in sight she slowed down to a comfortable walk and gathered all her willpower to appear as calm as possible. If Draco noticed her agitated state, he would have been so ashamed that he made his mother worry that he wouldn’t have told her anything at all._

_Even at the age of four her little boy had astonishing observation skills, which along with his maturity Narcissa supposed Draco didn’t get from his father.  
She saw a little blond head duck behind the trunk of the ancient tree, and she let out a relieved but silent sigh: ’He isn’t injured, otherwise he would have come to me, but he wasn’t ready to be found yet.’_

_Narcissa however knew exactly what to do, when her son was this shy, namely turning everything into a game, naturally._

_“Where is my little boy?” She said, all her love for him warming her voice._

_“I was waiting all day for him to show me that beautiful bug he discovered yesterday.”_

_Four year old Draco’s most recent fascination was firmly and exclusively directed at any kind of arthropods. Narcissa, seeing his joy, encouraged him to learn more about them, and taught him to avoid the dangerous species._

_She heard little feet uncertainly shuffling on fallen leaves, and she knew that he hadn’t decided about going to her yet, but he was thinking about it. At this point she was already softly smiling._

_“Maybe the bug run away? He must have been hungry, and maybe he missed his family too.”_

_“No!” A little voice shrieked, Draco’s impossibly blond hair popping out from behind the tree._

_“I-I put him in a big, thiiis biiig- he opened his small arms as wide as they could go- jar, and there were flowers too, and, and I put him on the sun, and, and I gathered for him friends too! So he isn’t lonely.”_

_That must be the vase in the drawing room – Narcissa thought. Luckily for the bug it was without water, under preserving spell...  
Despite the unfortunate fate of her vase, she couldn’t help but smile adoringly at Draco._

_“Oh really?” –She asked with an easy smile. “And what would you do, if your friend the bug wanted to play with you, instead of the other bugs, because he would have grown as big as the vase, since you found him the most delicious flowers?”_

_While she was talking she let her wand drop from its holster to her hand and she began a simple nonverbal spell, gathering all the fallen flower petals around the oak from the small sunlit clearing they were standing on. Draco - now wide eyed with excitement was waiting for her, watching her impatiently._

_Narcissa let the petals dance around her in a slow playful manner, until she saw Draco’s small hands twitching, fighting the need to catch the colourful petals. Then she pictures Draco’s favourite bug in her mind’s eye, wills the petals with another nonverbal spell to take its form on. The petal-bug became as big as a fat house cat, making Draco shriek with joy. He run up to it, Narcissa let the bug jump lazily for a few times, Draco naturally chased after it. She let the petals lose their form, they began to slowly dance around her laughing son. She walked up to the smiling child, gathered him up in her arms and turned around a few times, which made him laugh even harder. The she slowly sat down to the ground, she kissed his little now rosy with excitement cheeks, and told him:_

_“I love you, my little prince.”_

_“I love you too, mummy.”_

_She smiled at his words, lately he was consciously trying to appear older, as a way to appease his father, she supposed, so he began to call her mother, which was beautiful too in her opinion, however he couldn’t quite grasp the “th” most of the time, which lead to his absolute failure to appear older. Of course Narcissa wouldn’t have told him this for the world._

_For a while she just stroked his back, and his silky tresses. He would talk to her, whenever he was ready. And as if he has been reading her thoughts, she heard a tentative:_

_“Mot-her?”_

_“Yes Draco?”_

_“This morning with the other children was dis-displeasing.”_

_She had to force her smile down. His favourite word of that week, ever since hearing it from his godfather has been “displeasing”. Ever since then the vegetables at lunch, the rainy weather, the too fast running bugs became “displeasing” for Draco._

_“How so, my prince?”_

_“They, they laughed at my name!”_

_She looked down surprised and quite angered at the children. Draco’s big bluish-grey eyes were full of unshed tears, which she knew he won’t let fall, despite even his small lips quivering._

_“That was very mean of them. They shouldn’t have laughed, nor said anything.”_

_“But, but...”_

_She saw that he didn’t know how to deal with this, so in a split-decision which was so unlike her, she asked him:_

_“Have I ever told you, why you got the name of Draco?”_

_“Noooooooo.” Upon his features pure concentration was written._

_She took a deep breath, smiled down at her son, and resumed caressing his back._

_“The dragon is the strongest, most fascinating magical animal that has ever graced the surface of the Earth. Do you know why?”_

_He shook his head, already too engrossed in Narcissa’s story to answer verbally. The blond witch seeing this began another nonverbal spell, this time willing the fallen petals to take on the form of a graceful, majestic dragon that lazily hovered above her son’s right shoulder. The dragon yawned and playfully nudged Draco’s shoulder, the child curiously watching it. Narcissa slowly resumed her story telling:_

_“Dragons are not only very wise creatures, but their magical abilities too are beyond understanding of wizards and witches. They are very protective of their families. They are beautiful and free creatures, it is impossible to tame a dragon. They are fierce, brave, but most importantly wise. All of these are very admirable characteristics Draco. We wished for you to strive to be like a dragon. That a dragon, your name shall protect you. So never, ever be ashamed of your name, respect it, and be proud of it, my little prince.”_

_The little boy’s eyes were wider than ever, his face a picture of someone being awestruck. He reached out his hand towards the petal-dragon with such devotion that Narcissa had to supress the urge to kiss him on his cheeks._

_“Mummy?” Even his whispering voice carried a deeply touched tone in it._

_“Yes, Draco?”_

_“I don’t want to be called prince ever again! Princes can be eaten by dragons, and I am a dragon after all!”_

_With this he threw his arms around his mother and embraced her as strong as his four year old little body could manage. Narcissa naturally let out a heartfelt laugh at her son’s request, while battling with her tears and gently huged the excited boy back._

_“Alright, my little dragon.”_

“He is alright, you taught him well.” Luna casually says.

“How do you even...?”

“Your eyes soften, and your lips play in a secret, happy smile.”

This time even the dimples show up on Narcissa’s cheeks her smile directed at Luna is so wide.

The little group notices the charms swapping over their compartment right before the border. They look up in alarm at each other, apart from Bellatrix who is still blissfully unaware of anything in her sleep, but since they are the same kind of charms, whose stronger versions they have already passed in Ashford, they lean back casually. And try not to look knowingly at the two men opening their door right after the charms were supposed to reveal their magically altered true identity. The two obvious Blue Jackets quickly make an excuse of searching for seats and continue their hunt in the next car.

As they finally reach Paris, Luna can’t hide her excitement about visiting the picturesque capital at last, despite all circumstances, and Narcissa can’t help but feel high spirited about the possibility of meeting Draco soon. The other three are more wary, but even they don’t notice the knowing pair of eyes following all of their moves as they leave the station behind.


End file.
